


Sledge Hammer

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orphanage, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Broken Bones, Bullying, Canon Autistic Character, Dissociation, Flashbacks, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, i'll add tags as they apply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-01-30 19:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: If anything, Edward was surprised it took so long for any of this to happen. He’d been smacked around all his life, had missed school due to injuries, but it wasn’t until he was just past seventeen that someone noticed the scars and bruises. Better late than never, he supposed. Maybe he’d get to find out what it was like to not ache all the time. Maybe he’d get to enjoy a life without the constant fear and anxiety, without walking on eggshells, without the house he lived in being a minefield.Or maybe he’d end up somewhere worse. With his luck, he wouldn’t be surprised.





	1. Howling Storms

**Author's Note:**

> An AU where Edward's parents lose custody and he ends up in the same orphanage as Jon. Let me know what you guys think! If you like it, I'll keep going, but if you don't I can switch to one of the other options I had listed.
> 
> The title is inspired by the song Sledge Hammer by Squalloscope.

People kept trying to comfort him. The teacher who first saw the bruises had rambled frantic platitudes the entire way to the principal’s office. The guidance counsellor had spoken to him as if he were on the edge of a breakdown the entire conversation. The doctors and social workers kept repeating how none of this was his fault and how it would all be okay. Even during the final car ride, his caseworker was still trying to comfort him. The biggest problem with all of that was that Edward wasn’t upset.

He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t feel guilty or anxious or frightened, he wasn’t worried about whatever was going to happen to him. He didn’t feel much of anything. He didn’t say that out loud though, because he didn’t want to deal with the well-meaning fallout that would result from the adults around him finding out just how numb he felt to it all.

If anything, he was surprised it took so long for any of this to happen. He’d been smacked around all his life, had missed school due to injuries, but it wasn’t until he was just past seventeen that someone noticed the scars and bruises. Better late than never, he supposed. Maybe he’d get to find out what it was like to not ache all the time. Maybe he’d get to enjoy a life without the constant fear and anxiety, without walking on eggshells, without the house he lived in being a minefield.

Or maybe he’d end up somewhere worse. With his luck, he wouldn’t be surprised.

The car pulled up in front of a large but unassuming building. There was some sad attempt at a garden outside that clearly hadn’t been attended to properly, and the paint on the siding was old, faded and worn away. It didn’t look to be in disrepair, it just looked like an old building that the owners couldn’t quite keep up with. Edward wondered what it would smell like, and suddenly the numbness was tossed aside by an all-consuming anxiety. If it smelled a certain way, he’d feel sick all the time. Sensory input was such a hassle, and if this new place rubbed him the wrong way then he’d be living somewhere that left his mind constantly frayed.

He stepped out of the car to find his caseworker already taking his one suitcase out of the trunk. She handed it to him with an encouraging smile. He couldn’t bring himself to return it. She walked him to the door, and he could tell she wanted to lay a hand on his arm or his shoulder in a show of support, but she had learned early on in his case that he did not take kindly to touching. She knocked on the door, and Edward wondered whether he should hold his breath or not.

He didn’t have time to decide before the door opened. The lady who greeted them was older, with the barest hints of grey showing in her hair and laugh lines on her face. She led them inside, and Edward could hear her and his caseworker talking, but he wasn’t processing the words. The house smelled clean, and he found himself relaxing immediately. It wasn’t a dirty place. That took a weight off his shoulders as he looked around, taking in the aged decor and cluttered nature of the house. There were many children living there, he’d been told, of various ages. It wasn’t surprising it would be a bit of a mess, but at least it wasn’t dirty.

There were children milling about in little groups, mostly split by age. There were a few older ones, like himself, but not many. Most seemed to be pre-teens or younger, and Edward scowled. He doubted he’d ever get a moment’s peace.

“Edward?” He was snapped back to attention by his caseworkers prompting voice. They’d been trying to talk to him, he realized, and were looking at him expectantly. He blinked, and his caseworker smiled, turning back to the lady. “I’m sorry, he tends to space out like that sometimes. It’s the autism, we think. You just need to be patient with him.”

That was one of the things that pissed him off most about all this. Everyone always spoke about him like he wasn’t right there.

“Oh, don’t fret. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, so to speak. Now, Edward,” she turned to him, a smile on her face, and he immediately hated her. She spoke to him like he was stupid. Like he was incapable of understanding her unless she spoke in a slow, sweet tone. “I was going to show you to your room. Would that be okay?”

“No, I think I’ll just sleep on the floor, thank you.” He sassed without thinking about it, then tensed out of habit. Back home, that would have gotten him one hell of a beating and he really would end up sleeping on the floor, if not outside. The lady just laughed. Had she told him her name? She must have, but he couldn’t remember.

“Oh, no need for that. Come now.” She turned to the stairs at the very back of the main room, addressing his caseworker as they went, though the other woman stayed behind. “I’ll be back down to speak with you in a moment, darling, once I get him settled in.”

Every single stair they stepped on creaked horribly. There were framed pictures of children all along the wall on one side of the stairs, the oldest being blurry and in black and white, the newest seeming to be digital. The other side of the staircase faced out over the railing into the main room they’d just come from, and Edward realized it was a good place to watch all of the children at once. Had they designed it with that in mind, or was it a coincidence?

“Now, there are three meals a day. Don’t worry if you miss one, we’ll save your portion in the fridge, but do bear in mind that some of the rowdier children like to help themselves to whatever is left behind. All the main lights are to be turned off at ten in the evening, but you are permitted a lamp if you wish to do some reading or some other small activity in the night. We won’t bother you about that unless you disturb the other children. There are three of us working here. I’m here all the time, I live here just as you do, but I’ll introduce you to the two others when they come in tomorrow.”

She continued on about the exact times of meals, the rules regarding noise and recreation, the fact that there was no smoking or drinking allowed on the premises. She said he could have a week away from school to adjust to his new accommodations, but after that he would be expected to attend every day unless he was ill or injured. Fighting with the other children would not be permitted, she told him. There was absolutely no tolerance for violence.

“Now, everyone is made to share their rooms. I won’t lie to you, the boy we’ve paired you with has had… trouble with the other children, but it was all we had left.” She seemed to cringe as they stopped in front of a door. His room, he assumed.

“Trouble?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide any nervousness that fact made him feel.

“He likes to try to provoke others. It seemed to be a game to him, I don’t know… he’s a quiet boy, unobtrusive, and he tends not to bother others if they don’t bother him. Unfortunately, other children we’ve tried to room with him have… well, they bothered him. But you seem like a nice, quiet boy…”

Edward scoffed.

“I’ve been informed quite reliably that I am a noisy, obnoxious, annoying know-it-all with a very punchable face.” He said it as a joke, but she didn’t laugh. She just looked at him sadly, and nodded as if in understanding. Edward hated her even more, felt anger simmering under his skin. She didn’t know him. She had no right to pity him. She knocked quietly on the door, then opened it slowly.

“Jonathan? Your new roommate is here.” Edward heard no reply, but the lady opened the door fully. “Oh! I see you cleaned up. Thank you.”

Cleaned up? The room was a mess of books and papers, though everything was piled onto one side of the room. In the cluttered mess of academia, the boy reading on the bed was almost camouflaged. He was concerningly thin, the bones of his wrists looking sharp where they peeked from under his sweater sleeves, and his clothes didn’t fit his lanky frame quite right. His nose was long and crooked, having seemingly been broken and not healed properly. Looking at it made Edward’s own nose ache with the memory of such things. His eyes had dark shadows and bags beneath them, as if he’d never known a good night’s sleep in his life, but the color and intelligence behind them was breathtaking.

Edward was reminded of a bird. Hollow bones and a crooked beak, a wisp in the air ready to fly away at any nearby disturbance. He pushed up his glasses before turning a page, not bothering to look up at them. The lady sighed at his behavior, shaking her head before backing out of the doorway. She patted Edward on the arm as she passed him, making him tense and all but press himself up against the doorframe.

“Jonathan, be sure to come down for supper, and bring him with you.” Was all she said before closing the door, leaving Edward standing with his suitcase. When he looked back to the boy, he was startled. Those bright eyes were looking at him intently over the book, picking him apart. That subtle change of gaze made the aura around the other boy go from ‘fragile little bird’ to ‘predatory vulture who will pick your eyes out of your carcass.’

Edward suppressed a shudder, looking away and heading to his own side of the room. He dropped the suitcase onto the bed, beginning to unpack. There was a small dresser beside his bed, and he suppose there must be one on Jonathan’s side as well, under the discarded clothing and papers. He sorted his clothes into the dresser, partitioned and folded immaculately. He placed his books on top of it, spent time sorting them alphabetically and making sure they were lined up perfectly with each other. When he was done and there was nothing else to distract him, he couldn’t help but look back to Jonathan. He was back to reading his book, calm as a person could be, occasionally pausing to scribble something down in a notebook beside him.

Edward made a note to steal it later, when the other boy wasn’t looking. If only for something to do. Grabbing a book of his own, he settled on his bed and tried not to think about the absolute mess that was the other side of the room. The two boys sat in silence on their respective beds, reading their respective books, the only change being when Jonathan paused to write something. Maybe things would be okay, Edward thought, if only the rest of the world would disappear.

\----

Supper was absolute chaos.

The other kids were talking excitedly to each other, many conversations at once, and Edward spent the whole time tensed to the point of snapping. He made himself eat with automatic movements, the overlapping sounds rubbing him entirely the wrong way. Jonathan was sat down the table, and Edward noted he barely touched his food. He’d brought his notebook with him, and spent more time writing than he did eating.

“Jonathan,” the woman, who he’d heard the other children call Margaret, called sternly across the table. Edward closed his eyes tightly, cringing at the added noise. “No books at the table. You need to eat.” She warned. Edward opened his eyes to watch Jonathan’s reaction. The taller boy stared her down for a moment, his jaw working as if he were gritting his teeth, his eyes shining with indignation. His shoulders rose visibly as he took a deep breath and closed his notebook, resting it on his lap and sliding the pencil behind his ear. Edward almost scoffed, turning his attention back to his food.

“What’s your name?” A tiny voice asked right beside him, far too loudly. Edward glanced over to see a small child, probably about seven years old, looking up at him with big, curious eyes. It took Edward a moment to gather his words and push them through the murky static of sensory information that was messing with his head.

“Edward.” He mumbled, picking at his food.

“You’re rooming with Jon-boy, right?” A kid across the table asked, a smug smile on his face. This one was around eleven or twelve. Edward nodded and the boy scoffed, continuing: “Good luck with that.”

“How do you mean?” Edward glanced up the table. There was no way Jonathan couldn’t hear their conversation.

“Guy’s a freak.” The kid shrugged, speaking as if it were a simple fact and not an insult. “He’ll hide snakes in your dresser, or spiders in your bed. He likes to fuck with people-”

“Language, Mathias!” Margaret snapped, fire in her eyes. “And don’t speak that way about other children.”

“But it’s true!” Mathias whined. Margaret was unmoved.

“Careful, Matt.” A girl sitting nearby teased. “If you scare him too badly, Jon might feel cheated. Then you’ll be the one with spiders in your bed.” She laughed as Mathias paled. Jonathan didn’t react, just took small bites of his food, looking as if the mere action of eating was exhausting him. Edward was losing interest in his food as well.

“...I think I’m done. Can I just… go?” He gestured to the open door of the dining room, where the main area and staircase resided.

“Yes, you must be tired.” Margaret sympathized, much to Edward's chagrin. “Just bring your dishes into the kitchen.”

Edward did as he was told, and he didn’t have to look to know Jonathan was watching him closely the whole time. He paid it no mind. The guy seemed to watch almost everything with disturbing closeness, even when he wasn’t looking at whatever was going on. Worn out and buzzing with residual irritation, Edward settled back on his bed with his book, disappointed that Jonathan had taken his notebook with him to dinner. But then, he hadn’t seemed too interested in the food. He probably wouldn’t be away long enough for any proper snooping.

As predicted, it was only a minute or so later when the door to their room opened and Jon slipped through, shutting it softly behind himself before heading to his own bed. He sat down, opened his notebook, and then looked around. He seemed to be at a loss, brow furrowed in confusion as he moved his sheets around to look for something. Edward bit his lip to hold back a laugh as he watched.

“Behind your ear.” Edward hadn’t meant to say anything. As usual, it just slipped out. Jonathan looked at him, startled, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Then he reached up, fingers brushing the pencil tucked behind his ear, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Edward was quite proud of himself for not laughing, though he couldn’t contain a smile.

Jon didn’t thank him. He just started scribbling. Earlier, when Edward had first arrived, his writings had seemed easy. His expression had been idle, his posture relaxed. Now, Edward noted, he was tense and his brow was still furrowed. Something was bothering him. Eventually, Jonathan sighed heavily, putting the pencil down and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“...I’m out of spiders.” It took Edward a moment to realize Jonathan had just said something. His voice was soft, barely there, with a thick Southern accent and a calm monotone that could put someone to sleep if it weren’t so unsettling. Edward just stared at him. Jonathan looked up, met his eyes, and immediately looked away, fingers tapping the paper of his notebook nervously. “You won’t find any spiders in your bed. I used them all and haven’t gotten to gather more.”

“Well, I’m… glad to hear that?” Edward tried, and Jonathan glanced at him again for just a moment before looking back down at his book. He didn’t seem any more relaxed. “Listen, I don’t really care much about what that kid said. You read your books, I’ll read mine, and I think this could work out pretty painlessly for us both.”

That seemed to placate him somewhat. His shoulders drooped as he calmed down, though he didn’t lift his eyes. Still, he picked his pencil back up and resumed his writing. In ten minutes time, he was as calm as he’d been before. Edward knew he shouldn’t rock the boat, but he was curious, and he could never just… not know something.

“Why did you do those things?” Edward asked, looking to Jonathan in confusion. “Just for fun?”

“Yes,” Jon didn’t look up as he spoke. “And because I didn’t like them.”

“Do you… not like me? I mean, should I be on my guard?” He really didn’t want to go back to looking over his shoulder all the time. Jonathan looked up at him, regarding him quietly with a thoughtful frown.

“I’m not sure yet.”

He went back to his writings, and though Edward wasn’t great at reading social cues even he could tell that Jon did not want to be bothered. Everything about him screamed that the world should leave him be. So, since Edward wasn’t keen on being killed in his sleep, he left the other boy to his own devices.

The two were still up and reading for hours after lights out, both of them lost in their own thoughts and readings. Eventually, Edward fell asleep with his book open on his chest. He slept late, until past noon, and when he looked over Jonathan was still reading and writing as if only a few minutes had gone by since they’d spoken. His clothes were the same. Had he not moved at all? Had he eaten breakfast? No wonder he was so scrawny.

Edward didn’t care, really. He went back to sleep. When he woke up an hour later, he realized he’d missed lunch and the bed across the room was empty. Slowly, groggy and weighed down by a late night followed by a late morning, he went about his morning routine until he was completely satisfied with his immaculate appearance, then started down the hallway to the stairs to see if his portion was still in the fridge.

A group of boys were huddled in the hallway, laughing to each other. They seemed to be closer to his age, but much bigger than he was. They were all gathered around a door, he realized, as he picked up some of the things they were saying.

“Jesus, what a pussy…”

“Can you hear him in there? Is he crying yet?”

Edward rolled his eyes. Typical. He planned to push past them, head down and hands shoved in his sweater pockets, but a hand landed on his shoulder. He jerked away violently, turning on the boy that had his hand outstretched.

“Don’t touch me!” He snapped, and the boy held his hands up in surrender, laughing with his friends as if Edward’s reaction was hilarious.

“Hey, okay, no worries new kid.” He lowered his hands gesturing to the door. “We just thought you might wanna check this out. He probably gave you a hard time, right? He’s always creeping on his roommates.”

Edward frowned, approaching the door slowly, wary of a potential trap. It didn’t take a genius to realize who they were talking about. He just stared at the door, frowning, until one of the boys spoke up again.

“Just press your ear to the door. It’s funny as hell.”

Edward did so, and it took a moment to decipher the sounds on the other side. They were small and quiet, though filled with a frantic fear and panic that made his chest tighten just from hearing it. Jonathan was in there, his breathing erratic and shallow, sobbing occasionally and muttering quiet, broken pleas to let him out, please let him out, he’ll be good, please granny-

Edward backed off the door quickly, his stomach turning, but when he faced the boys again he was smiling.

“You’re right, that’s fucking hilarious.” He laughed with them, and they smiled invitingly, apparently accepting him as someone who wasn’t half bad. It was a nice feeling, being accepted by his peers. He didn’t feel any less sick. “Listen, I missed lunch. You guys can have my food, and my dessert. You’ve certainly earned it.”

“Oh shit!” One of the boys exclaimed as the group started down the hall. “Thanks, new kid!” Another called. They hurried down the stairs, clamouring and yelling, and Edward waited until they were at the bottom before he moved back down the hallway towards their room. His heart was pounding, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. In a hollowed out book, placed subtly with the rest of them, he had a lockpick set he’d stolen ages ago. It had served him well over the years.

This would be his first time using it for the sake of another.

But no, he reasoned. He wasn’t doing this for Jonathan. He was doing this for himself. Life would be easier if he was in Jon’s good graces. He was being entirely selfish, and that made it okay.

There was weak banging on the door when he got back, and he immediately knelt down and got to work. The lock was easy and clicked open in less than a minute. Quickly, he stood and swung the door open, immediately ending up with an armful of Jonathan Crane. The other boy had apparently been leaning hard against the door, trying to get out. When it opened he fell forward, and Edward just barely managed to keep them both upright between the gangly teenager falling on him and the sudden shock of human contact.

He bit down the instinctive hatred at being touched, adjusting his hold on the trembling figure wrapped around him. Spindly arms were hooked over his shoulders, spider-like fingers gripping the back of his sweater desperately. He couldn’t see Jon’s face, but he could feel tears seeping through the fabric on his shoulder. He was babbling, sobbing out broken nonsense that Edward couldn’t make out. He had no doubt that Jon’s mind was somewhere other than his body.

Carefully and with no small amount of effort, Edward dragged his roommate down the hall into their room. He kicked the door closed behind them and deposited Jonathan on his bed, where the taller boy immediately curled up much smaller than Edward thought was possible for someone of that height. Edward watched him as he shook and sobbed, arms wrapped around himself and face buried in a pillow. He felt like he should do something, but he couldn’t think of what.

Eventually, he settled on hurrying downstairs and into the kitchen. The boys there greeted him warmly and with excitement, and he did his best to do the same and not burn any bridges. He quickly acquired a glass of water and all but ran back up to his room, placing it on the floor next to Jon’s bed.

Jon had quieted slightly in the time he was gone. There were no more words or substantial sobs. He was just lying there, shaking violently, face turned away from the pillow. His eyes were dazed and far away, staring out at nothing. They snapped to Edward when he placed down the water, following him warily as if he might attack. Edward knew the feeling.

“Just some water.” He explained quietly. “Seemed like you might need it.” He sat down on his own bed, opened a book he had no intention of reading, and waited. Eventually there was movement, though Edward didn’t look up. He had a feeling Jon didn’t want to be watched at the moment. There was silence between them as Jon drained the cup of water and placed it back down. When Edward did look up, Jon was sat on the side of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“...Why did you help me?” The quiet question was finally asked after a long silence. His voice was paper-thin and bogged down with exhaustion and the remnants of a panic attack. In fact, his whole being seemed to follow much the same theme.

Edward could lie. He could say it was to spite the other boys. He could say it was just a whim. He could say that it was the right thing to do, or that he just wanted to help, or that he wasn’t sure why he had bothered. Instead, he did something that was quite rare for him. He told the truth.

“...My mom would lock me in the closet sometimes, when she didn’t want to deal with me.” He admitted, running his fingers down the textured spine of his book to ground himself. “It sucked, and it seemed like you’d been through something similar more than enough times.” Jonathan looked up at him, eyes bloodshot and conflicted, holding a contrast of the wild desperation of his panicked state and his attempts to get a hold of himself.

“My great-grandmother would-” He swallowed thickly, rethinking whatever he was about to say. “I don’t like enclosed spaces. It’s not a weakness I like people to know, but it’s a bit late for that now.” He sounded bitter, looking out the window of their room despite the utter lack of an interesting view.

“...Do you want me to even the field?” Edward offered, and Jon’s gaze snapped back to him in confusion.

“What?”

“You don’t like people knowing your weakness. I know this one, so I could tell you one of mine. Then we’d be even. Would that help?” Really, Edward just loved talking about himself to anybody that would listen, even if whatever he said could be used against him.

“What if I use it against you?” Jon asked after a long moment of consideration. Edward shrugged.

“Then not only will you receive no help the next time the other boys shove you in a cabinet, but you might find them doing it a lot more often.” They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, then Jonathan nodded, eyes intense in their scrutiny. Edward considered what exactly to tell, and found himself unexpectedly hesitant to say it outloud despite his offer.

“Men frighten me.” Edward admitted the first fear that came to mind gripping his book tightly. “Big men, mostly. Or if they’re loud. Especially if they yell. If they move too erratically or get too close, that’s when it’s worst. I know it doesn’t make much sense, seeming as I’m a man myself but-”

“It makes perfect sense.” Jonathan cut him off. “If you’re afraid of men, and you’re living here, I’m assuming your father wasn’t a pleasant man. Or maybe an uncle?” There was a moment when Edward considered him with narrowed eyes, wondering if his tone was mocking. He couldn’t tell.

“My father.”

“And my great-grandmother.” Jonathan repeated what he’d said before, much more certainly. “There. Now we’re even. If you use mine against me, I’ll use yours against you.”

“And vice versa.” They didn’t shake hands, but a strange, twisted sort of trust settled between them.


	2. Sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Edward entered the cafeteria he would see the group of boys he called friends laughing and chatting, a few waving to him as he entered the room. Jon would always be in the very back corner of the room with an untouched muffin and his books. Every time, Edward looked from his friends, then to Jon. Every time, he sat with his friends.

The other boys never caught onto Edward’s scheme. They seemed to have forgotten they locked Jon away, and by the time they remembered they just assumed Margaret had let him out. As far as they knew, Edward had been on their side the whole time. So when Edward went back to school, he found he had friends. People that wanted him to sit next to them in class, people who laughed at his riddles and jokingly teased him about how weird he was instead of cruelly shouting it while pushing him around. He had people to eat lunch with for the first time in his life.

Jon did not. Every time Edward entered the cafeteria he would see the group of boys he called friends laughing and chatting, a few waving to him as he entered the room. Jon would always be in the very back corner of the room with an untouched muffin and his books. Every time, Edward looked from his friends, then to Jon. Every time, he sat with his friends. He’d never had so many people like him before. It was a great feeling, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it, even if the other boys were dull as rocks and utterly uninteresting.

He didn’t like them. They were nice enough, really, as nice as a typical teenaged boy usually was. But they couldn’t keep up with him. Every time he spoke, his words were met with blank stares and confusion, then awe-filled commentary about how smart he was. That praise almost made up for the boredom. They were a tactile bunch, always shoving each other’s shoulders and high-fiving, but they didn’t seem to have a problem when Ed told them not to touch him. They just… didn’t touch him.

So he stuck with them. He had friends for the first time in his life. Still, he felt lonely. A bone-deep hollow ache of imposed isolation that he’d known all his life. Even among the boys who had accepted him as one of them, he wasn’t really one of them. He was still on his own, still separate from them, still too far off of their wavelength. Sometimes he wandered off from them, their rowdy laughter and overlapping conversations overwhelming him. He’d step out of the school to get some air, go for a walk. Doing that, he often lost track of time. He was doing another lap around the school when he heard them.

He hadn’t heard the bell ring, he’d been too spaced out, but he heard their laughter. He knew it well at that point. He followed the sound, figuring he could at least walk home with them. They were around the corner, at the back of the school. Why would they be back there? He stepped around the edge of the school and froze in confusion as he took in the scene before him.

They were standing in a semi-circle around someone they had backed up against the brick wall of the school. Whoever it was, they were doubled over and Edward couldn’t see their face. He felt uneasy, but he didn’t feel very inclined to do anything. Why should he risk the first and only friends he’d ever had for a total stranger?

Then they shoved the other student, one of the boys pinning them upright against the wall, and Edward’s heart jumped into this throat.

It was Jon.

His face was covered in blood streaming from his nose and split-lip, his eyes narrowed and glaring down at his tormentors even as he had to lean heavily on the wall to stay upright. He was defiant. He wasn’t pleading or crying. He was furious. He looked absolutely murderous in his rage, but the boys were larger than him in muscle mass and could probably snap him in half without much effort.

“I think we broke his nose!” One of the boys laughed.

“How can you tell? It’s so fucked up already!”

“Jesus, it’s like a fucking beak. He looks like a crow!”

“Naw man, look at the gangly freakshow. No living thing is gonna wanna be around that. He’s more like…”

“A scarecrow!” The cry went up, a single voice, and then all the boys broke into laughter. One of them drew a fist back, and Edward didn’t see the fist make contact with Jon’s stomach, but he saw his roommate double over with the air knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize he was moving forward until he was close enough to be noticed, and one of the boys looked at him in surprise before breaking into a grin.

“Hey, Eddie! Where’d you run off to? You already missed most of the fun.”

Edward’s mind raced, and he opened his mouth to spout off a lie. He was good at that. Lying came as naturally as breathing.

“The ice cream shops freezer broke down a block over! They’re giving out free ice cream to empty it out!” He told them excitedly as they all turned to him. They believed him immediately. Why would he lie to them? They ran off almost immediately, shouting excitedly to each other in a way that made Edward wince. They were so caught up in getting there that they didn’t notice Ed hadn’t gone with them.

He waited until they were around the corner and out of sight before turning to Jon.

The taller boy was still doubled over, seemingly only managing to stay upright with the help of the wall behind him. His glasses were gone. Edward looked around, spotted them on the ground and picked them up. He stepped closer, holding out the miraculously unbroken glasses. Jon snatched them from his hand with a quick, aggressive motion, shoving them back on his face with no regard for his injuries. Edward cringed in sympathy.

“Are you okay-”

“Do I _look_ okay to you!?” Jon cut him off, the loudest Edward had ever heard him, though to be fair Jon didn’t speak much to begin with. The glare he’d been giving the boys was back with a vengeance, holding a hateful fire that made Edward’s blood go cold. All that hatred was directed at him. All that anger.

It reminded him of home.

He swallowed thickly, took a deep breath and averted his eyes.

“...They’ll be gone for a while.” He started softly. “We can head back home and get you cleaned up long before they-”

“I don’t need or want your help!” Jon snapped, finally straightening against the wall. He tried to push off of it but almost toppled over. Edward went to steady him automatically, but Jon jerked away so violently he hit the brick wall in a way that looked quite painful. “ _Don’t touch me!_ ” He snarled, and Edward was sure that if Jon were able to at that moment, he would wrap his hands around Edward’s throat and squeeze until there was nothing left.

A visible shudder ran through Jon and he hung his head, wiping some of the blood off his face with the back of his hand, the other clutching his stomach.

“Just go.” He choked out, voice hoarse and low. “Go catch up with your friends and enjoy your goddamn ice cream.”

“There is no ice cream.” Edward admitted quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I lied.” There was a pause before Jon spoke again.

“...Why?” That made Edward look at him, eyebrow raised. Wasn’t it obvious?

“To get them away from you.” He said simply. Jon was clearly taken aback, eyes blinking wide and losing the shimmer of rage for a moment. Then the moment passed and his eyes darkened again as a scowl overtook his features.

“Then follow suit. Get away from me.” He pushed off the wall successfully, wobbling for just a moment before taking a step and starting to limp away.

“Jon-” Edward started after him, but Jon whipped around so quickly Edward was sure he was going to fall over. He didn’t.

“Stop acting like you give a damn!” He flinched as Jon yelled, trying not to shrink away. “You’re one of them!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are, Edward! Neutrality is a fucking lie! If you don’t stop them, you’re one of them. You can’t make nice and suck up to them, wait until they’re done fucking with me, and then swoop in like you were in my corner the whole time.” He stopped to catch his breath, and Edward just stood here, looking at some spot on the ground. Jon inhaled deeply, continuing with ragged exhaustion clear in his tone.

“You’re smart, Edward.” He began, and Edward’s gaze snapped up to him in surprise. “You’re brilliant. Anyone can see that.” Why was he praising him? Wasn’t he angry? “But you’re a coward. It’s pathetic.” Ah. There it was. “You’ll do anything and put up with anyone as long as they play nicely with you. Well, I’m done playing nice. I told you I hadn’t decided whether I disliked you or not.”

“Jon…” He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want this to happen. Jon was unmoved, eyes blazing.

“I’ve decided. I don’t dislike you. I _despise_ you.” He spat the word with disdain, looking Edward over and finding him wanting. “You’re worse than they are. At least they’re honest about what they are. At least I know where I stand with them. They’re lower than dirt, and you’re lower than even that.”

Funny. Despite the accent, Jonathan sounded just like Edward’s father.

Jon turned and limped away on his own. Edward didn’t follow. He sat down hard in the grass behind the school, eyes unfocused and expression blank, tearing at the grass with his hands without looking at it. The sun set and darkness fell, the ground went bare where Edward had ripped out whole patches of grass, but he didn’t move. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realized he’d be in trouble if he didn’t go back. It was surely past lights out by then.

That thought never broke through the haze, and Edward stayed where he was.

\-------

It was five in the morning when Edward slipped in through the front door. It didn’t feel real. He felt like he was floating, like the whole world was a shimmering hallucination. He barely reacted when he was accosted by all three caretakers, apparently beside themselves with worry. He felt no resentment, or anger, or fear. He felt nothing, because none of it was real. He wasn’t really there.

Edward hadn’t seen much of the other two caretakers. They were mainly there during the day when he was at school, helping to clean and cook supper and take care of the younger children. On weekends, he hid away in his room to read. He couldn’t even remember their names, but that was just because they weren’t real. He had perfect recall, after all. He would remember it if it was real.

Eventually, when he didn’t react or respond to anything they said or did, they pressed some crackers into his hand, told him to eat them and go to bed. He didn’t eat the crackers, but he did go upstairs, ignoring their looks of concern. He didn’t change out of his clothes or go through his nighttime ritual. He just put the crackers on his dresser, dropped into his bed and passed out, not even glancing at Jon’s side of the room. He heard a squeak. He opened his eyes, and found a little mouse climbing around on his pillow just beside his head.

He watched it passively for a moment, then sat up. He held out his hand and let the mouse sniff him with its tiny pink nose. It almost made him smile. Its whiskers tickled his hand, and after a moment the mouse climbed up onto it fearlessly. Carefully, he got out of bed with the mouse still cradled in his hands, took the crackers off the dresser and sat down on the floor. He set his new friend down gently along with a cracker and watched the tiny creature go straight for it. He actually did smile at how happy the little thing seemed with its food.

He spent the rest of the night sat on the floor, feeding the mouse Jon had hidden in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you guys think about this so far c: Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	3. Hurricanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing?” He finally asked, looking back to Edward. His gaze was returned evenly as Edward replied.
> 
> “Making a choice.”

Edward and Jon hadn’t been friends to begin with, but knowing Jon apparently hated him took a toll on Edward. He had a need to be liked, craved attention, and Jon was blatantly ignoring him. Edward was left with his books and the knowledge that he slept in a room with someone who despised him. He didn’t sleep well to begin with, but now he hardly slept at all.

He thought seriously about what Jon had said. Was he a coward? Was he holding back out of fear? Yes. Fear of rejection, of being an outcast, of losing all the positive attention the other boys gave him. That attention didn’t feel very positive anymore. He avoided his friends, and when they tried to talk to him he couldn’t even pretend to be engaged in the conversation.

Over the weekend, Edward got permission from Margaret to purchase a proper home for his new friend. He lined his books up on the floor at the foot of his bed and set the large cage on his dresser. He knew Jon was livid. The mouse was meant to scare and upset him, but instead Jon had given him a real friend. He named the mouse Curie and doted on her happily. It was all he had over that weekend, when his friends had lost their appeal and Jon had grown to hate him.

But Curie didn’t hate him. Curie loved to perch on his shoulder while he read, accepting the little bits of food that Edward passed up to her in silence. She loved to climb back into the hood of his sweaters to nap, and explored her spacious cage and toys with an enthusiastic vigor. Edward felt he could sit for hours just watching her go. He didn’t even mind cleaning up after her all that much. He scrubbed his hands raw afterwards every time, but he was willing to pay that price.

Monday came, and Margaret promised to take care of Curie during the day. That didn’t stop Edward from worrying. Did she have enough water? Had they refilled her food? Did they take her out of the cage? If they did and they lost sight of her she could get into the wires… He was lost in thought for all of his morning classes, and when lunch came around he was faced with another worry.

His friends were all sat at their usual table. They saw him and waved him over with smiles despite how he’d shunned them over the weekend. Edward had moods sometimes. They were used to it. He looked over at Jon, scribbling away in his notebook whenever he wasn’t reading the sizeable tome he had with him. His muffin hadn’t been touched.

Was Edward really willing to throw away people who actually liked him, people who considered him a friend and were nice to him, for some creepy asshole who admitted to hating him? Just because that asshole had called him a coward? Because he wanted to prove him wrong?

Or maybe that wasn’t the part that bothered him. Maybe it was what Jon had said about neutrality. By standing by passively he became part of the problem. He wasn’t hitting Jon with his own fists, but that didn’t matter. He was enabling it. Hadn’t he blamed his mother just as much as his father every time his father had beaten him? She never raised a hand to him, but she never lifted a finger to help him either.

He understood why Jon hated him.

Gripping his lunch tray, Edward took a deep breath and turned away from his friends table. His legs shook as they carried him to the back corner of the noisy cafeteria, and he found the sensory information wasn’t as bad when he was so far from the thick of it. He sat across from Jon, seeing the other boy’s shoulders tense. Jon looked up at him and frowned. He glanced behind Edward and towards the center of the room, where Edward’s friends were wondering what was going on.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked, looking back to Edward. His gaze was returned evenly as Edward replied.

“Making a choice.”

Jon didn’t say anything else. He stared at Edward for another moment, then went back to his books. Edward relaxed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Anxiety twisted his stomach too violently for him to even consider eating his food. All he could think about was what he had just done, and what might happen because of it.

 

\----

He sat near Jon in every class they had together, which was all but one of them. Jon didn’t speak a word to him the whole time. At one point, one of Edward’s friends approached him to remind him he could come sit with them, he didn’t have to stay over there with Jon. Edward just smiled and said he was fine, thanks. His friend walked away utterly confused. Jon didn’t even look up from his book.

The silent treatment continued as they walked home. Edward could hardly think past the buzz of anxiety, his brain coming up with all sorts of horrible reasons for Jon’s silence. It was too late, he thought. Jon already hated him and that wasn’t going to change. He’d thrown away his friends for nothing. He shoved his hands in his pockets and bit his lip hard, the taste of copper drawing him out of his own head and allowing him to speak.

“...Hey uh… Is this… Okay?” Edward gestured between them, but Jon didn’t look to see. For a moment Edward thought he really was just being ignored.

“We’ll see.” Jon finally replied, eyes straight ahead.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s simple for you to walk beside me when nothing’s goin’ on. That’s easy. We’ll see if you stay beside me when things get tough.”

“And you’re just going to ignore me until then?” Edward’s heart sunk, and he had to make a conscious effort not to start crying at the mere idea of simply being ignored. No positive or negative attention. Nothing at all. His chest felt tight, his breath felt strangled, his head felt light. He’d get nothing. He’d taken a chance, he’d made the wrong choice, and he’d get nothing.

“Not exactly.” Jon continued, and something inside of Edward immediately relaxed. “But you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not especially inclined to throw all of myself into something that might be gone tomorrow.”

“That’s fair.” Edward agreed after a quiet moment.

“If it makes you feel better, they torment me almost daily. You won’t have to wait long to prove yourself.”

\-----

Jon hadn’t been kidding. The group of boys were waiting on the steps of the building when Ed and Jon got there, and they stood when they saw the two approach. Ed tensed, but Jon didn’t shy away as the boys surrounded them. He stood his ground, eyes hard and challenging. Edward wished he could be that composed.

“What’s going on, Ed?” One of the boys asked, actually looking a little hurt. Ed shrugged, trying to seem calm.

“Just heading home.”

“Don’t play dumb, genius, you know exactly what I mean.” Ed hated that. Using his label of ‘genius’ as an insult was something his dad had done constantly. He grit his teeth, gathering the ire that inspired in him, trying to draw some courage from it. “What, do you think he’s your friend now? Has he ever even spoken to you?”

“Yes.” Edward didn’t clarify which question he was answering. The boys were surrounding them, so much larger and so much stronger. Edward was scared, anticipating a horrible beating for breaking unspoken rules. It was sickeningly familiar. The boy who was taking the clenched his teeth, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Alright.” He sighed, as if he were taking on some huge burden on Edward’s behalf. Pain exploded in the side of Ed’s face, and he was hitting the ground hard before he even processed he’d been punched.

“You really want to do this here and now?” Jon challenged, sounding bored. “You know Margaret is just through the door. All we’d have to do is yell.” The boys considered it, glancing at each other and back to the door. The leader frowned, turning back to Edward.

“One last chance, Ed. Stick with us, this’ll never happen to you again. Stick with him, you take his lumps with him.”

Edward pulled himself up off the pavement shakily, resisting the urge to press a hand to his aching face. Looking at them, at how superior they thought they were, knowing that they thought they could hit him and he’d still come crawling back…

He spit blood at their feet.

“Fuck you.” He hissed, braced for another blow. The boys bristled, but turned and left to go inside with muttered curses and glares. Jon started to head inside, not sparing a glance for Edward, and that did nothing to quell the resentment and rage that was simmering in Edward’s gut. They both went upstairs, but Jon went down to the end of the hallway while Edward went to their room, making sure Curie had food and water before collapsing on his bed.

Was that not good enough? He’d gotten punched for Jon, and even then the other boy had just gone inside like nothing had happened. Like what Edward had done meant nothing. Edward had faced his fears for Jon, had taken a hit for him, had lost his friends for him, and that still wasn’t enough. Edward felt sick. Had he really been so desperate that he’d do so much for someone who didn’t even like him?

He heard the door open and closed, and felt someone sit on the side of his bed.

“Sit up.” A quiet, heavily accented voice commanded. Edward unburied his face from the pillow, looking to Jon in confusion. He had an ice pack and a damp cloth. Edward sat up, not exactly sure what was happening. Jon reached for him, and he flinched on instinct just before long fingers gently settled on the uninjured side of his face to hold him steady. His hands were freezing. Edward didn’t mind.

Jon dabbed at the blood on his face with the damp cloth, focused completely on his task. Edward was starting to learn that the intensity in Jon’s eyes never left. He was like that with everything he did. All in or all out. He wondered if Jon knew he was staring. He wondered if Jon minded. The taller boy put down the cloth and pressed the ice pack into Edward’s hand.

“There. You’ll be fine.” He stood and threw the cloth in the laundry bin by the door, pausing to look into Curie’s cage. “...You weren’t supposed to like her.”

“I know.” Edward mumbled, holding the stinging cold of the ice to his face. He’d gotten blood on his pillow. What a pain.

“... I’m glad you do.” Jon admitted after a long moment, not looking away from the cage. Edward was baffled. If he wasn’t supposed to like her then why would Jon be glad he did?

“You are?” Jon just nodded, quiet for a long moment before answering.

“I don’t know how to be someone’s friend.” He looked at Edward then, and the injured boy was almost certain Jonathan was smiling. “Maybe she can pick up my slack.”

\-------

They sat next to each other at supper that night, Jon managing to fill out a page in his notebook before Margaret told him to put it away. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself after that. He just picked at his food and stared out into nothing, lost in thought. He seemed to do that every suppertime as far as Edward had seen. Maybe it was time for that to change.

“What’s in your notebook?” He asked, startling Jon out of his thoughts. The other boy stared at him for a moment, eyes wide with surprise, before glancing down at the book in his lap.

“It’s private.” That was all he said, and Edward could feel a familiar itch in the back of his mind. That wasn’t good enough. He had to know.

“Is it a diary?” He tried, but Jon just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Fine, then what is it?”

“I told you, it’s private. Drop it.” There was warning in his tone, and as always Edward was torn between the consequences of pushing an issue and the pain of not knowing something.

“Do you draw?” Another attempt, but this time Jon just ignored him. Edward was frustrated, his hand gripping his fork much too tightly. “What are you so afraid of?” He snapped, bristling at the idea of having to accept ignorance. Jon turned his head very slowly to look at him, something shining in his bright eyes and a strange twist to his lips like he was trying to smile.

“An interesting question, Edward. Tell me, what are you afraid of?” His voice was soft as always, even as always, but there was something dark behind it that made Edward’s skin crawl. “You’re afraid of being alone.” Jon supplied, and alarm bells went off in Edward’s mind. “You’re afraid of going unnoticed, of your genius being unrecognized. If I wanted to unmake you all I would have to do is look away and say not a word. I suppose it stems from your parents? They never appreciated you, did they. Such a brilliant child and they’d just as soon throw you away.”

Edward’s eyes were on his plate but the image blurred in front of him. His fork was digging into his hand painfully. Carefully, quietly, he got up from the table. He brought his full plate back to the kitchen with automatic movements, then casually walked upstairs without looking back. Curie squeaked at him as he entered the room but Edward’s attention could not be claimed at the moment. He gravitated towards his bed, crawling under the covers and hiding his face in the pillow.

His face was already wet with tears. He wondered if anyone had seen, then decided he didn’t care. Was that Jon’s way of telling him to fuck off? Or did Jon just like seeing him hurt? He’d said they were friends earlier, didn’t he? Edward wasn’t willing to allow another person into his life who claimed to be one thing and acted like another. He refused to care about someone who hurt him. Not again.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard the door open and close softly. Whoever had entered lingered near the doorway, not moving into the room or approaching immediately. When they started towards him their steps were hesitant and slow, as if uncertain in their path. Edward didn’t move. He had stifled his crying mostly, but hiccups still shook him occasionally.

The side of his bed dipped down.

“...Research.” Jon said after a long silence, his voice barely a whisper in the darkening room. “It’s research.”

Edward didn’t respond.

“I um… I study… psychology. I read everything about it that I can get my hands on. I’m specifically fascinated by fear. What fuels it and what it drives people to do, how it controls their lives and how one can use it to control others. It’s fascinating and intoxicating. To control fear completely would grant someone god-like power over others…” There was a pause, where Jon seemed to decide it was inadvisable to continue. He cleared his throat, then tried again.

 

“That’s what’s in the notebook. My notes, my theories, my ideas… All of it. It’s my life. It’s what I love, it’s what I throw myself into and it’s the only thing I have that is completely mine.”

There was no movement or sound from Edward.

“...I wasn’t thinking. At supper. I wasn’t… I didn’t think it through before I said it. I just wanted you to stop asking about it, I just wanted to make you leave me alone. So I did. I manipulated you. I used your fears to drive you away. I thought… Usually when I succeed at such a thing, I feel triumphant. I feel satisfied and victorious. I feel powerful. But your eyes filled with tears and I just felt… bad.” Another long pause, and when Jon spoke again there was a desperate edge to his voice. “Edward, please-”

“Why do you care.”

Jon was stunned into silence by the sudden interruption.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly. Edward lifted his head from the pillow, glaring hard at his supposed friend. The effectiveness was lessened by how red and puffy his eyes were.

“You said you hated me. Why do you care if you upset me?”

Jon just stared at him as if he didn’t understand the question.

“Edward, you took a punch for me.” He stated simply. “No one has ever stood up for me before, and you did so to the point of putting yourself in danger. I don’t know if we’re friends. I’ve never had any before so I’m not sure how that works. But I don’t hate you, and I’m… sorry I hurt you.”

The apology sounded warped and foreign, as if it were another language that Jon had only a basic grasp of. There was a moment of silent staring before Edward looked away, wiping away the tears on his cheeks. Jonathan’s hands twisted around each other as he watched, as if he should be doing something more. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then spoke up hesitantly.

“Is there… anything I can do to help? Water?” It occurred to Edward that Jonathan had never had to comfort anyone before. He was likely basing this simply off of what Edward had done for him after he’d been locked in the closet. Edward frowned at him, tried to decipher how sincere he was being. Expressions and tones were hard to discern, and that was never more frustrating than in that moment. He didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of someone who was mocking him, if that’s what Jon was doing…

But if he was being honest, then he didn’t want to pass this up.

“Hug me.” He ordered flatly, tone hard despite the wobble in his voice. Jonathan jumped a little when he spoke, eyes wide as saucers behind his crooked glasses.

“I- what?”

“Hug me. Hold me. You were right. My parents hated me.”

“Edward-” Jon tried to interrupt, looking quite uncomfortable, but Edward wasn’t having it.

“They didn’t want me. Nobody did. No one has ever wanted anything to do with me. You reminded me of that. Vividly.” His throat started to feel tight again, but he kept going, taking a shaky breath to steady himself. “You asked what you can do to help. I want a hug. That’s it. Just…” He had to wipe his eyes again, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to meet Jon’s eyes. He tried to speak confidently and without hesitation, but that was a tall order. This was about the scariest thing he had ever done.

“I just want to feel wanted. I want to feel like someone cares. Just for a moment.”

There was a silence between them, something Edward was recognizing as a common occurrence. Maybe Jon thought over his words more carefully than Edward did. The taller boy cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting on the bed where he sat and glancing away from Edward quickly.

“I thought you didn’t like being touched.” He finally replied.

“I don’t, usually. But I’m giving you permission.” Jon looked back to him, considering, and Edward’s nerves couldn’t take the waiting. He sighed harshly, losing his patience.“You don’t have to. You asked, I answered. That’s all.” That seemed to push Jon into action.

“No, no, that’s… It’s fine. I can do that. Just…” The gangly mess of a teenager that was Jonathan Crane considered the space between them with an uncertain frown. Carefully, mindful of the awkward angles that were his limbs, he moved closer to where Edward was sitting against the headboard with his knees held to his chest. He settled in beside him, reached out, and gave him the first and most awkward hug of his life.

They were both tense. Stiff and unsure in their movements. Jonathan was all hard angles with a chilled body temperature that made Edward shiver. It was awful. They both hated it.

Then Edward shifted. He turned towards Jon, settling against him properly. He curled up to Jonathan’s side, wrapped his arms around his middle and buried his face in his shoulder. Jon’s arms moved around him to hold him with more certainty, closer to his chest. Edward closed his eyes. Jon was still cold and sharp and awkward, but he was holding him, and it was perfect.

They laid like that for a whole minute before Jonathan spoke again.

“...Edward?” The only answer he received was an exhausted hum of acknowledgement. “Isn’t this a bit…” He searched for the proper word, his fingers twisting in Edward’s sweater out of nerves. “Intimate?”

“Do you think it is?” Edward lifted his head to look at him, eyes shining with a genuine curiosity. He’d never get tired of picking apart Jonathan’s thoughts.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had friends. I don’t know if this is what they do.” His answer, though sad, made Edward smile just a little.

“If they don’t, then they should. It’s nice.” He settled his head back against Jon’s shoulder, still smiling against the fabric of his shirt.

“...Yes.” Jon admitted finally. “It is.”

\----

Margaret came to check on them hours later at lights out, making sure they were alright for the night. She found them like that, laid out against each other on Edward’s bed, and it brought her up short. Hadn’t they been fighting at supper? What could have happened between then and now? She’d never known Jonathan to get along with anyone else, yet here he was… cuddling. It was strange. Still, she didn’t disturb them.

If anyone needed a hug, she thought, it was those two boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! I promised it would be out tonight, didn't I? I hope it meets everyone's expectations ♥ Let me know what you think!


	4. Four in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s awful sweet of you, Edward.” He said, looking at Edward as if he’d said something adorably naive. “But I am sure there is room in Hell for the whole damn family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains panic, anxiety, one homophobic slur, and descriptions of past abuse and a murder.

They tried to stick together at school. The other boys were still angry with Edward and seemed to have it out for him even more than Jon, for the moment anyway. So Edward stuck to Jon like glue. It wasn’t much protection, but he felt less anxious than if he were alone. Jon still didn’t speak much at school, but Edward didn’t mind. There was too much sensory information in the first place and if Jon tried talking to him in such a crowded and noisy environment, Edward wasn’t sure he’d even hear it.

At home, though, they locked themselves in their room. Jon opened up more then, when he wasn’t reading. He still thought over his words carefully before saying them, but Edward was leaning that was just how Jon was. Meticulous. Calculated. The only thing that bugged Edward, really, was the feeling that Jon was still holding back. Like he was hiding. Edward knew he might have just been reading too far into things, but he couldn’t shake the anxiety that came with not knowing.

The evening found them in their small room, each sitting on the floor against the sides of their own beds across from each other. There were piles of books between them and around them, from both of their collections. Edward thumbed through yet another psychology text. That seemed to be the majority of what Jon owned, but not all of it. He also had older books. Classics. He wasn’t sure how Jon had gotten a hold of them, but the most likely scenario was that he’d stolen them.

Edward didn’t ask.

“Do you want to be a psychologist?” Edward asked as he closed the book, putting it back into one of Jon’s piles. Jon looked up from one of Edward’s books, his glasses having slid down his crooked nose as he read. His eyes were wide and attentive, completely focused on Edward and the question he’d been asked. Edward felt his breath catch, then decided he didn’t want to analyze why that was.

“Psychiatrist.” Jon corrected, lips twitching into a strange shadow of a smile. It was a shy expression, like Jon didn’t quite know if he was doing it right. Edward only saw it when they were alone, and the possibility that no one ever had before made him feel special.

“You said you liked to control people with fear.” Edward pointed out. “Would the psychiatry just be a ruse to do that?” He waited patiently through the usual silence as Jon thought over his answer. He’d never been a patient person before, but he managed it for Jon. His words were worth the wait.

“...If I can master fear,” Jon started quietly. “Then I won’t have to be afraid anymore. Then I can help others master their fears. I like to use fear to manipulate, yes. It’s a wonderful feeling. But that’s… not what I want to be. That’s not what I want for myself.” He admitted quietly, looking a bit bashful. “I want to help.”

Ed watched him, his heart climbing into his throat and making it hard to speak.

“Jon… Why are you afraid?” He all but whispered, voice thick with something he didn’t want to think about. Jon didn’t seem to notice. He just looked back to the book and shook his head.

“I don’t know. But I am.” He laughed quietly, but it didn’t sound very amused. “All the damn time. In my life, I can’t remember a single moment that was not clouded with fear.”

“Even now?” Jon looked up at Edward’s question, the small smile back but with something behind it that made Edward’s heart hurt.

“Especially now.”

He didn’t say anything for a while after that, just went back to looking through Edward’s books. Edward thought that was the end of it. He was reaching for another large tome when Jon spoke again.

“Edward,” he began, hesitant in a way that made Edward pause. Jon didn’t usually hesitate in his words. He was so careful in choosing them that by time he spoke he was certain it was what he wanted to say. “Do you believe in Hell?”

That startled Edward, who looked up to find Jon was very pointedly not looking at him. He was all but hiding behind the book he had.

“Hell?”

“Yes. My…” He lowered the book, finally giving up on trying to hide, and took a breath before continuing. “My great-granny would tell me to pray for forgiveness. She didn’t always say what I had to be sorry for, but I usually just assumed my existence was an affront to God.” Jon never spoke about his grandmother or past, and Edward hung onto every word. Jon’s long fingers worried at the corners of the pages of Edward’s book, but Ed didn’t try to stop him from doing it.

“My mother had me out of wedlock, y’see. She was into all sorts of things that don’t bear repeating. I don’t even know that they’re all true. Granny used to tell me I had to pray for forgiveness for her sins. That I had to repent. When she’d-” Jon was distressing himself with his own words. His body was tensing, his hands were shaking, his eyes were staring at nothing. Edward didn’t know if he should stop him or not.

“When she’d hurt me,” he finally continued, voice dropping to a tone Edward hadn’t heard from him before, his words trembling as he spoke them. “When I was young enough to believe her words, I’d be thankful. She said she was tryin’ to save my soul. She said-” One of his shaking hands left the book, pressing hard against his eyes. He didn’t speak for a moment, just breathing deeply in the quiet of the room, trying to control a clearly rising panic.

Edward was tearing at the carpet. He hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it.

“I wanted her to hurt me, back then, because I was so fucking scared of going to Hell.” He sounded furious despite his soft tone, but Edward couldn’t tell who he was angry with. His grandmother, or his younger self?

“I don’t believe in God.” Edward whispered, barely audible even in the deafening silence Jon’s words left behind. He didn’t know what else to say. Jon’s shoulders shook and for a moment Edward was sure he was crying. Then he dropped his hand, lifting his face to look at Edward again. He was laughing. It was shaky, but it was a laugh, and it sounded genuine.

“Of course you don’t.” Jon sounded fond, and his eyes reflected that so clearly that Edward wasn’t sure what to do with it. It wasn’t something he was used to, even with Jon. Then the taller boy looked away, towards the dark sky out the window of their room. “And y’know…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I do either.”

“Jon?” Edward tried, as gently as he could. “If… if there is a Hell… I think she’d be more likely to end up there than you would.”

Jon looked at him again, as exhausted as he ever was. He’d said he was always afraid. Edward knew how tiring it was to live in constant terror.

“That’s awful sweet of you, Edward.” He said, looking at Ed as if he’d said something adorably naive. “But I am sure there is room in Hell for the whole damn family.”

 

\---------

Edward couldn’t sleep that night. He was worried about Jon, anxiety twisting in his stomach. The other boy had been so unlike himself that day. He was usually so guarded and careful, and he never spoke about anything that personal. Edward couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d fallen short of whatever he should have done for his friend.

Jon was having a nightmare. The lingering effects of his earlier train of thought followed him into sleep, and Edward could hear his mumbled distress as he tossed and turned violently in bed. He wanted to wake him. He wanted to help.

But he didn’t know if that was what he was supposed to do.

There was a sharp, sudden gasp, and then absolute silence. The room was still. Jon wasn’t moving, he wasn’t making a sound. Edward couldn’t even hear him breathing. He held his own breath, but the silence continued.

Then it was broken.

The sobs were quiet. If Edward had been asleep, they wouldn’t have woken him. The soft sounds were broken and exhausted, conveying a bone-deep devastation that made Edward’s heart ache. Jon didn’t like people to see him in weakness, but Edward wasn’t just anyone right? Jon had trusted him earlier. If he offered help now, maybe that trust would continue.

He turned from his back to face Jon’s bed, speaking as quietly as he could.

“Jon?”

The sobs came to a sudden halt, and the absolute silence returned. Edward swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to continue.

“Can I help?” He tried, but received no answer. He bit his lip, his hands twisting in the sheets. “Should I come over there?”

A shuddering breath escaped Jon on the other side of the room, followed by a single quiet sob that escaped before Jon could strangle it.

“Please.” Was all Jon could manage, his voice hoarse and ruined. It reached Edward all the same, and the shorter boy was out of bed in a moment. Lying down together and reading was something they’d done a few times by then, but they always went to their separate beds to sleep. This would be a first.

Jon moved over, allowing Edward to slip under the covers. The bed was only made for one person and the boys had to huddle close together, but they didn’t seem inclined to do otherwise. Edward pulled Jon to him the moment he laid down, Jon's long limbs surrounding him and sharp fingers gripping his nightshirt desperately. Jon hid his face against Edward’s neck, his cheeks damp and his whole body shaking. Edward didn’t mind at all. He ran his fingers through Jon’s hair and tried his best to calm him down.

“I’m sorry.” Came a whisper in the dark, but Edward just shushed him gently.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I woke you up.” Jon argued, sounding appalled at the implication that he shouldn’t apologize.

“You didn’t. I was awake.”

Jon had no answer to that. He just held on tighter. His elbows and knees were painful where they dug into Edward’s sides, but Edward was not at all inclined to move him.

“Would it help you to talk about it?” He spoke into Jon’s hair, which was hard not to do with how horribly it was sticking out everywhere.

“...I dreamt about her death.” Jon whispered as if it were a scandalous secret.

“Your grandmother?” The only response he received was an affirmative hum. “How um… how did she…”

“She was stabbed to death.” Jon told him, a strange detachment in his voice.

“Oh, I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jon scoffed at the attempted sympathy, and Edward felt a bit silly for thinking Jon would feel badly about her death.

Then something occurred to him.

It was a ridiculous thought. Jon would be upset if he asked, and it probably wasn’t even the case. He’d be wrong and Jon would be offended and he’d make everything immeasurably worse. Still, he’d never been able to keep nagging questions to himself.

“Jon,” he started cautiously. “Did you… kill your grandmother?”

No response.

“I- I’m sorry, that was…”

“It was the only way to make her stop.” Jon’s voice was hard, no uncertainty and no trace of the shaking Edward could feel coming from the rest of him. “How does that make you feel?” He hissed with sudden aggression, fingers gripping tightly to the fabric of Edward’s shirt.

“Concerned.” Edward replied with a calm that surprised himself. Jon laughed, the sound carrying a chill as if he had frost in his lungs, and Edward felt it settle against his skin and sink crystalline ice into his veins. He shivered, and Jon pulled away just enough to look at him in the dark.

“Of course you are. You’re lying down with a murderer. You have every right to be afraid-”

“I’m not afraid.” Edward cut him off sternly, reaching out for him. He was too far away. “I’m concerned, Jon. I’m worried about you. You’re clearly upset and I’m worried.” That made Jon pause, the tenseness leaving him all at once and his expression losing the sharp edge it had gained. Edward couldn’t see much of him in the dark, but his eyes always stood out. There was a moment of vulnerability, of open shock and a strange desperation, before Jon caught himself and closed his expression off again.

“I stabbed her, Edward. Repeatedly. Over and over and over, even after she was dead. I just _kept going._ ” He was insistent, trying to make Edward understand something. But Edward understood everything, and he was not afraid.

“Good.”

“I- What?” Jon jerked back a little bit, and Edward bit back doubt at what he had said. He insisted on his answer.

“Good. I’m glad she’s dead and I’m glad you killed her.”

There was silence in the room for a long moment, where Jon just stared at Edward in open shock. Then slowly, he lowered himself back down, returning to his place against Edward as if in a daze. Edward wasted no time in gathering him close again.

“I don’t feel guilty.” Jon whispered.

“Good. You shouldn’t.”

“I had thought… I thought when I killed her, I’d stop being afraid. But even when she was dead and I was looking at her empty, lifeless eyes… I was still so scared.” Edward stroked Jon’s back as he spoke, feeling raised scars beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Jon didn’t seem to mind. “I told the police someone had broken in. That I’d tried to fight them but they took me down. It wasn’t a hard sell; my granny was known as a woman made of iron and I was just a scrawny lil bastard. I was beat to shit, and cryin’ besides, so no one seemed to question the story. Besides, why would a boy kill his own grandma? The only person who’d been willing to take him in when his own mother didn’t want him.”

Edward felt white-hot rage boiling beneath his skin.

“I think you did the right thing.”

“I’m a killer, Edward.” Jon stated, as if Ed didn’t understand.

“...Jonathan, I wanted to kill my father.” Edward admitted. His father was a subject they never touched on. But then, so was Jon’s grandmother. “I’m not being hyperbolic, I’m being very serious. I wanted him dead and I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to wrap my hands around his bulging neck and squeeze until the light left his eyes. I wanted to hit him over and over with something solid until every bone in his body broke apart. I imagined it all so vividly, the dreams where I killed him were the best ones I had. But then I’d wake up and I’d still be so much smaller than him. He’d beat me. He’d throw me to the floor and kick me so hard I swear my ribs broke. He’d smack me across the face, if I was lucky. If I wasn’t, he’d get out the belt…”

Edward’s breath had picked up, panic gripped him as he pulled up the horrible memories. But one of Jon’s hands reached up into his hair, fingers running through it gently. Edward closed his eyes and took a breath. He felt grounded. He felt safe. Jon was right there. He wasn’t alone.

“He’d call me a moron. A cheater, a wimp, a coward-” He felt Jon flinch when he got to that one, but he didn’t stop to comment on it. “An idiot, an attention-whore, a faggot, a mistake.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “And I would dream of killing him. I think you did the right thing, Jon, and if my father wasn’t twice my size I would have done the same.”

They laid there for a moment, breathing together in the dark blanket of night.

“...Are you?” Jon asked finally.

“Am I what?”

“Are you a- You know what, nevermind.” Jon corrected quickly, burying his face back in the crook of Edward’s neck. “I’m tired. I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Yes you do, Jon.” Edward sighed tiredly, but fondly. “You never say anything unless you’re sure you want to say it.”

“...We should get some rest. You’ve been awake all night.”

“My record is eighty-two hours.”

“You are a danger to yourself, Edward Nashton.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have you here.”

Edward felt Jon smile against his skin.

“Yes. I suppose it is.”


	5. When I Come Down the Hallway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaret stood in the doorway, and noted their interaction with growing unease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some dissociation and a flashback with descriptions of abuse.

Days turned into weeks, and soon enough Edward had been around for over a month. He and Jon spent every day of it together. Even the one class they had separately, they would always meet outside one of their classrooms before heading to the next class together. They still slept in their own beds most nights, but if they fell asleep reading together or if one of them needed comfort after a nightmare, they certainly weren’t opposed to sharing. Edward preferred it, even if Jonathan was a distinctly uncomfortable person to lie on, and he was fairly certain Jon preferred it too. But there was some unspoken rule that told them they could only indulge on occasion.

People began to think of them as a unit. It was never just Jonathan and it was never just Edward. It was always Edward and Jonathan.

Except for that morning.

Jonathan had had a rough night. Even when Edward crawled into his bed and held him, the remnants of his nightmare didn’t leave him. He shook horribly for hours, and only just after sunrise did it finally slip away and allow him to rest. Edward had been up too, tracing shapes on the arm Jon had wrapped around him, or running fingers through his hair. But Edward was used to going days without sleep. If anything, he just felt restless. So once Jon was finally asleep, Edward slipped out and left him to rest. He definitely needed it.

He didn’t spend a lot of time with the other children. If he left his room there was a chance the larger boys would accost him, but it was absolutely beautiful out that Saturday morning and so most of the children were outside. That meant Edward could stay inside, enjoying the relative peace. The only ones left were the less energetic children, the ones that were quiet or shy or just had other interests. They colored or played their own games with each other, and honestly the soft background noise wasn’t all that bothersome to Edward that morning. It was almost nice. It almost felt like he had an actual family.

So he grabbed an apple from the kitchen and settled into one of the chairs in the main room, just enjoying the good mood he had accidentally found. A child of about seven years old smiled widely at him, saying something quietly to her friends before hurrying over.

“Hi Eddie!” She chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He raised an eyebrow at her uncontained excitement.

“Miss Lacey.” He greeted with a polite bow of his head. She giggled at the formal greeting, looking back to her friends for moral support. They urged her on quietly, and she turned back to Edward. Most of the younger children were rather sweet, if altogether too loud, but Lacey and her few friends were quieter. The younger children, such as her, liked to ask him endless questions over meals. They were curious about everything, and he had an answer for every query. He didn’t discourage their questions or wave them off. He encouraged them and gave them information and prompted them to seek further knowledge. That made him a favourite.

“You’re really smart, right?” She asked, and Edward pretended to consider the question carefully with a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose that’s what being a genius entails, yes.” He confirmed, and she nodded sagely as if that was a secret they shared.

“Charlotte found a really hard riddle, and we can’t figure out the answer! We thought you might know!” She turned around and waved over her friend, a much meeker child who could only approach after being prompted by all their other friends as well. She looked at Lacey as if for permission.

“Go on, then.” Edward encouraged, trying his best to smile gently like he saw adults do all the time. “What’s the riddle?”

“I… turn around once,” she started quietly. “What is out will not get in. I turn around again, what is in will not get out. What am I?”

“A key.” Edward answered almost immediately. The two girls and their friends looked on with wide eyes, but he just smiled. “I know a lot of those. Would you like to try some others?”

At first, it was just the handful of girls guessing at the riddles. But then the other children overheard and wanted to prove they were smart, wanted to try to be right. Edward tried to keep the riddles simple, but he couldn’t help but to throw some more challenging ones in. He was delighted at how into it the kids were. They cared so much about his riddles, argued over answers and cheered when they got one right. He was so enthralled in the game he hardly noticed Jonathan come down the stairs until the other boy was already at the bottom.

Edward left his untouched apple on the side table and hurried over to his friend. Jonathan hardly had time to see him coming before Edward was hugging him tightly. He also didn’t have time to react to the hug, as Edward pulled away almost immediately with a large smile, still holding on to Jon’s arms.

“Well you are certainly in a good mood.” Jon noted, looking Edward over with amusement, confusion, and no small amount of affection. Edward was practically glowing. Jon gently removed Edward’s hands from his arms, but still held them casually. Neither of them seemed to take note of the contact.

“They like my riddles!” He exclaimed, trying not to get too excitable and failing horribly. “They’ve been listening all morning! I’ve never had anyone care so much about them!” Jon hummed thoughtfully in reply, letting go of one of Edward’s hands to brush his hair out of his face. The motion seemed to be just an afterthought, something Jon did automatically. Edward didn’t seem to find it unusual either.

“If I knew that was all it took, I’d listen to your ceaseless riddles myself.” His tone was teasing but held no real insult, and he was actually smiling. It was a small smile, but it was soft, and fond, and only for Edward.

Margaret stood in the doorway, and noted their interaction with growing unease.

\------------

It was about a week later on a Sunday when Jon stormed into their room and slammed the door behind himself. Edward jumped about a mile out of his skin, suddenly pressing himself against the wall like a startled cat. Jon never slammed doors. He always closed them carefully. He also never stormed into a room like that, or grabbed a book from a pile to throw it at a wall with a yell of frustration and rage.

Edward was terrified.

Jon dropped down on his bed heavily, sitting with his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. Edward didn’t move away from the wall. He remembered late nights, the front door slamming and a loud voice yelling out for him to get his ass downstairs. He remembered lamps being thrown at walls and being yelled at for “making” his father break a perfectly good lamp. He remembered the way his father would drop heavily into his favorite chair, head in his hands and vocally lamenting the utter failure of a son who had the nerve to keep living, leaving Edward shaking wherever his father had left him, bloody and sore and frightened.

But that wasn't where he was.

He was being shushed. Someone was quietly soothing him, wiping tears he didn’t remember crying and stroking his hair in the way he liked. He was shaking so hard he was sure he’d be unable to even sit up if it weren’t for whoever was holding him close. As his faculties began to return to him, he lifted his heavy arms and wrapped them around his friend. As always, Jon was his anchor. He buried his face in the fabric of his shirt, and as his movements betrayed awareness Jon held him tighter and began to speak words of comfort now that Edward could actually hear them.

They were on Edward’s bed, he realized. He was practically in Jonathan’s lap, draped over him awkwardly in such a way that Edward wondered if he’d collapsed on the other boy when prompted to move from the wall. Still, Jonathan didn’t complain or ask him to move.

“I’m sorry.” He managed, but Jonathan just continued to shush him.

“No,” he spoke softly, just beside Edward’s ear. The sound of his voice made Edward feel calmer, made him feel safe. It reminded him who he was really with, where he really was. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my feelings get the better of me like that, especially when I know how acts of aggression affect you.”

Carefully, with his hands still clutching tightly to Jon’s shirt, Edward pulled back to look at him. He still looked angry, but not at Edward. Something had prompted his outburst. Something had upset him. Jon looked over Edward’s face, the pinched expression of fury being replaced by something softer as he gently wiped the tears from Edward's cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, barely a whisper. Edward was the only one Jon ever seemed to apologize to.

“It’s okay.” Edward sniffled, clearing his throat and trying to get a hold of himself. “What… happened? What was wrong?” He looked to Jon with wide, questioning eyes, but Jon just turned his head and looked away, mouth set in a grim line.

“Nothing.”

“Jonathan.” Edward warned, and Jonathan sighed deeply before turning back to Edward, the irritation and frustration back in his eyes.

“Margaret wants to talk to you.” Edward’s brow furrowed in confusion as Jon continued. “She wanted to have a ‘chat’ with us. Separately.”

“Are we in trouble?” What had they done? Edward couldn’t think of any rules they’d broken. Jonathan frowned, looking intently at nothing in particular, eyes far away.

“I don’t know.” He sighed again, standing from the bed, and Edward already wanted to drag him back down. “She’s in her office. If you’re not feeling up to it I’ll tell her-”

“No.” Edward shook his head, standing as well. “No, I’m fine. I’ll go splash some cold water on my face and I’ll head down.” Jon didn’t look convinced, but he simply nodded, not seeming to have the energy to argue. He closed the door gently behind himself as he left the room. Cleaning himself up wouldn’t take long. He was very practiced at looking alright when in reality he was anything but.

Some cold water and deep breathing later, he was headed down the stairs. Margaret had an office to herself where she did paperwork. Into the mainroom and down a small hallway in the back, the door was tucked away near one of the houses bathrooms. Edward had never been inside before. He knocked, and it only took a moment for someone to call out for him to enter.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. When he looked up to the room, Margaret was sitting at her desk, a tape recorder seated on the surface between herself and an empty chair. Standing off off to the side near the wall was a man Edward didn’t recognize, but his outfit was unmistakable.

“Edward, please take a seat.” Margaret spoke, and Edward obeyed almost numbly. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He didn’t know what Margaret wanted.

He especially didn’t know why they’d brought in a priest.


	6. Seventy-Seven Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is this about?” Edward couldn’t help but ask, despite knowing they’d be getting to it in a moment. He felt like he was vibrating with nerves. “Have I done something wrong?”
> 
> “I wouldn’t call it ‘wrong,’ no.” Margaret sighed, raising a hand to massage her temple. “I just need to speak with you and clear some things up.” She looked exhausted, Edward noted. Like she was worried about something. Though, Margaret always seemed to be fretting about something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains self-deprecation, mild and unintentional homophobia. Margaret is sincerely trying to help and doesn't realize how flawed her logic is.
> 
> Please, let me know what you think.

Edward shifted uncomfortably in his seat, watching the tape in the recorder roll. The dull, steady sound it made would almost be soothing if he didn't already feel sick with anxiety.

“I will be recording this,” Margaret told him needlessly. “In case allegations on either side arise. This will protect both parties against unfair claims, or help prove if any wrong was done. Though, I assure you, we mean you no harm.” 

Edward found that rather hard to believe. His hands clutched each other tightly as Margaret sorted through some papers in front of her. He wished he could hold Jonathan’s hand instead of his own. He wished Jon was there at all. He’d feel stronger if he was. Everything seemed easier to face when someone was in his corner. Margaret found the notes she was searching for, adjusting her reading glasses. The priest had yet to say anything at all.

“What is this about?” Edward couldn’t help but ask, despite knowing they’d be getting to it in a moment. He felt like he was vibrating with nerves. “Have I done something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘wrong,’ no.” Margaret sighed, raising a hand to massage her temple. “I just need to speak with you and clear some things up.” She looked exhausted, Edward noted. Like she was worried about something. Though, Margaret always seemed to be fretting about something.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Edward.” She began with small sigh, her expression grim. “Have you been intimate with Jonathan?”

Edward just stared at her for a moment before a disbelieving laugh escaped him. Once he started he couldn’t seem to stop, nearly doubled over in his seat, giggling like a child.

“What?” He managed, breathless with laughter. “Is _that_ what this is about?” Something dawned on him, his eyes widening with realization. He straightened up in his seat, laughter replaced with a derisive scoff. “Is that why the holy man’s here? To save our poor gay souls?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm as he glared at the priest, crossing both his legs and arms. His father had always hated it when he crossed his legs. Said it made him look 'like a queer'. Edward used that stance now out of spite.

The older man seemed utterly unbothered. He was younger than Margaret, maybe in his late thirties, with a peaceful look about him. He seemed calm, and perhaps even comforting. Edward didn’t trust it for a minute. Margaret seemed less at ease, her mouth pressed into a hard line as she regarded Edward carefully.

“He is here to advise me. Is it true, then? Are the two of you involved?”

Edward turned his gaze to her, his expression flat and disdainful.

“We’re friends.”

“You act much closer than friends.”

“Best friends, then.” Edward insisted through gritted teeth. What business was it of hers anyway? It was his private life. If he wanted to fuck his roommate and his roommate was down with it, then goddammit that was exactly what he’d do! Or hey, maybe it would be the other way around. He couldn’t help but smirk, somehow smug about thinking such things in front of a priest.

“Edward,” she sighed. “I am not your enemy. I am not trying to judge you or attack you. I am your caretaker while you stay here, and I just want what’s best for both of you. This world is cruel to homosexuals, and if the good book is to be believed-”

“It isn’t.”

“-Then the next life is as well.” Margaret finished as if Edward hadn’t interrupted.

“And what would you do about it, hm?” Edward challenged, eyes narrowing. “If I were gay then that would simply be a part of who I am. Whether I acted on it or not, it wouldn’t change or disappear. I am who I am, so wouldn’t I be damned to Hell regardless?” The way he spoke of Hell, it was clear how ridiculous he thought all of this was. Like they were talking about children’s tales. Margaret considered that, clearly taken aback, and looked to the priest. He just shrugged casually.

“I’ll let you know when I get there.” Was all he told them. Margaret turned back to Edward, shaking her head.

“What exactly do you want from this conversation anyway?” Edward was beginning to lose his patience, his exasperation showing in both his tone and posture. “What were you hoping to achieve?”

“Merely to discover what the truth of the matter is. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.” That didn’t make Edward feel any better. “But as your caretaker, it would be irresponsible of me to allow you to continue sharing a room while you might become involved with each other.” Edward felt real rage boil inside of him. How dare she suggest separating them? There was something so fundamentally wrong with that idea.

“Well, we’re just friends.” He practically spat the words at her, seething in his seat. She did not react to his anger. “Besides, not like either of us can get knocked up.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Right, right, it’s about us burning in hell.”

“Eternity is a very long time, Edward.” She warned, but he just rolled his eyes. “Tell me truthfully then, you are not sexually or romantically involved with your roommate, Jonathan Crane?”

“No, I am not.” Margaret nodded, then continued.

“Do you believe you could fall under the thrall of temptation to engage in such a thing?”

“What, do I wanna kiss Jonathan?” Yes. God yes, he did. More than anything and in a million different ways. “No chance in hell.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He’d made it clear enough at that point, he did not believe in hell.

\-------

When he returned to their room, he found Jonathan sitting on his bed, feeding Curie bits of cheese and crackers, placing them a bit away from her and watching her scurry around to nibble them. He looked up when Edward entered the room and, though his expression remained largely neutral, there was concern in his eyes.

“How did it go?” Edward sat beside him, close enough that their arms touched.

“They think we’re…” Funny. Edward had been able to speak so freely about it in front of people he didn’t trust at all. Now he was with someone he trusted more than anything and he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I know.” Jon told him quietly, eyes returning to their tiny friend.

“...Is that why you were so mad?” Edward couldn’t help but ask. He could never stop himself from asking things, but his tone was soft, his words hesitant. He didn’t actually want to ask this. “Because they implied you were involved with me?” Jon’s gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide and appalled, as if the mere suggestion was ridiculous.

“Of course not.” He replied with no room for uncertainty, his eyes looking for something as he observed Edward. They were so close, facing each other, pressed side by side. Heart pounding in his chest, Edward reached out and took Jon’s free hand from where it laid in his lap, interlacing their fingers as he’d wanted to downstairs. Jon’s eyes turned to their hands, his expression unreadable. He didn’t pull away.

“Edward, I…” He began, words catching and choking off. For a moment, hope bloomed in Edward’s chest. Then reality set in. He remembered who he was and the way he was. He remembered that he was obnoxious and unlikable. He remembered that no one could ever want him that way. He remembered how much of a miracle it was that he even had a friend. Ed smiled sadly. He understood, suddenly, why Jonathan was so conflicted. Jon didn’t know how to let him down easily. Edward knew he could be fragile at times, and he knew Jon didn’t always know what would set him off. He could see the wheels turning as his roommate tried to find a way to reject him without hurting his friend.

Edward slipped his hand out of Jon’s. The taller boy lifted his head, looking to his friend with clear confusion.

“Would you watch her while I clean out her cage?” Ed nodded to Curie, who was scrambling to climb up onto Jonathan’s leg to get at the cheese and crackers he was holding onto. Edward stood without waiting for an answer. Rejection was something he’d never been good at handling, and if he started crying then he didn’t want Jon to see.

He kept his back to Jon as he worked, and his roommate said not a word the whole time.

\--

Night fell and Edward laid wide awake in bed, intentionally staying awake. Jonathan was an insomniac, and a light sleeper besides, so trying to sneak out without waking him would be hard. If he was even asleep at all. Still, at around three in the morning Edward slipped out of bed and out of their shared room. He had to move slowly and carefully, the floor of the old house wanting to give him away with every step, especially once he made it to the stairs. He almost fell, skipping one that just would not stay silent.

Eventually, he made it to Margaret’s office.

He’d brought his lockpicks and quickly got to work. She’d recorded their conversation, and Edward was sure she had recorded her conversation with Jon too. He had to know how that went. He had to know what Jon had said. Did Jon know Edward was interested in him? Was he freaked out? Was he flattered? Was he totally oblivious? He had to know.

At no point did it occur to him that Jonathan might feel the same.

The lock clicked open. Edward grinned, proud of his work, and strode confidently to Margaret’s desk. The tape recorder was still there, holding what was likely Edward’s tape. Opening a drawer in the desk, he found only one other tape. There was a piece of masking tape across the face of it with Jonathan’s name written in black marker.

It was all so easy. It would be boring, if it weren’t for the object he desired.

He took his own tape out of the recorder and replaced it with Jon’s. He had to rewind it back to the beginning, and had no time to hesitate before pressing play. He didn’t know how long it was, and Margaret always got up obscenely early. The tape played with no sound for a moment, before a click was heard in the playback. Then it began.

“-ome in!” Margaret’s voice called, likely to Jon. There was a door opening, and when Edward expected it to shut there was nothing. No door closing, no footsteps, just a furious question.

“What the hell is this?!” Jonathan’s voice growled on the tape. “Why is he here?!”

“Jonathan-”

“I’m leaving.”

“Jonathan, sit down! I just want to talk.”

“ _Then get him the hell away from me!_ ” His voice was run ragged with emotion. Edward remembered how upset he’d been when he’d returned from that meeting.

“Perhaps I should leave.” The priest spoke up, voice calm and seemingly unbothered. “Though I assure you, child, I only wish to help.”

“Right.” Jonathan laughed, but the sound was empty. Hollow. “Last time someone in the good Lord’s corner tried to ‘help me’” He said ‘good lord’ mockingly, door finally slamming as Jonathan entered the room properly. “She damn near beat me to death and left me for the crows!”

“I… I’m sorry, Jonathan, I should have warned you.” Margaret spoke. “This is Father-”

“I don’t give a damn who he is.” Jon’s voice lowered but the fury never left. Edward shivered at the sound of it.

“...He’s an old friend.” She continued regardless. “He is only here to advise me.”

“I am _not_ staying in the same room as him.” Jonathan insisted.

“Margaret, really, I can go.”

“No! I-” Margaret sounded panicked for a moment before getting a hold of herself. “I need someone here. Just…” There was a deep breath, and a long sigh that followed. “Jonathan, I need to know if I have to separate you and Edward.”

“...What?” Jon’s voice was suddenly quiet, suddenly devoid of that anger. He sounded small. “I don’t understand, why-”

“I don’t know if I need to yet. That’s why I need to speak with you. So please sit down, and we can figure this out. He will not get involved. He is only here to observe.”

Jonathan said nothing, but Edward heard the scrape of the chair as he sat down.

“Thank you. Now, Jonathan, I don’t want to jump to conclusions here. But I have noticed some of your interactions with Edward have gotten… familiar.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.”

“Jonathan,” Margaret’s voice indicated that she knew he was playing dumb. “Fine. Have you been intimate with Edward?”

“Suppose that depends on your definition of the word.”

“Jonathan, I am trying to be delicate here. You know what I mean. I need to know if you and Edward-”

“Why do you need to know that?” Jon interrupted, and Edward was taken aback by how sharp his tone was. “We’re both seventeen, I’m turning eighteen this year. What I do with my own body in my personal life is not your business.”

“I am your caretaker for as long as you are here. I just need to make sure you two are safe.”

“Safe from what? Unwanted pregnancy? Oh, I will try my _very_ best not to repeat the mistakes of the past, ma’am.” He mockingly put on the tone of a proper Southern gentleman. “I will make sure not to knock up poor Edward.”

“That- Jonathan. I know that isn’t a risk, I’m not an idiot.” Jon scoffed at that, but Margaret ignored him. “But this world is a dangerous place for people of… that persuasion.”

“I _appreciate_ your concern,” Jonathan seethed, clearly not appreciating her concern.

“And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, the church does not look kindly on-”

“Oh sweet Christ.” Jonathan muttered in a hiss of breath, his irritation and disdain made clear to the world.

“I would very much appreciate if you could not take the Lord’s name in-” The priest began gently.

“Oh, shove it up your ass, you self-righteous-”

“Jonathan!” Margaret interrupted sharply. Edward had never heard her yell before. She took an audible breath. “...Eternity… Is a very long time, Jonathan.”

“Y’don’t say.”

“I’m not trying to judge you, or hurt you, I’m just… scared for you. Both of you. Maybe you don’t believe in God and Hell, but I do, and I don’t like the thought of you boys suffering for all time.”

“Then maybe God needs to review his admission requirements.” Jon told her dryly, and Edward could picture the look on his face. A flat, seemingly bored expression, but with a white-hot, soul-crushing anger burning behind his eyes.

“...Ignoring all that. I would not place a boy and a girl in the same room. If you and Edward are interested in each other the way other boys are interested in girls, then it would be inappropriate for me to keep you two in the same room.”

“Are you askin’ if I’m gay in general or if I’m fuckin’ Edward?” Jon spat the question at her, and Edward felt his heart sink. Jon spoke about the concept of being with him as if it were something offensive to him. Something upsetting and outrageous. 

“Are you and Edward currently involved in a romantic or sexual relationship?” Margaret asked in her professional tone of voice, not bothering to correct Jon’s language. No one could tell Jon anything when he got worked up like that.

Except for Edward.

“No.”

“Do you believe you could be tempted into such a thing?”

There was a very long silence before Jon replied, almost too quietly for the recorder to pick up.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“...Because,” Jonathan began, sounding absolutely exhausted and drained of all fight. When he continued, he was resigned. Defeated.

“Edward Nashton is beautiful. Edward Nashton is brilliant. Edward Nashton is funny, and clever, and warm and soft and when he smiles it’s like-” Edward wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but Jon sounded choked up. “It’s like the sun. Bright and warm and life-giving. Edward is my best friend. He is all I have. He is everything I will never be and everything I have never had. He looks at me, and I feel like I matter. He looks at me, and I feel like everything she said about me was wrong. Edward is loud, obnoxious, arrogant, proud, and cares far too much about what people think about him.” Jon sounded so painfully fond, and that pain resonated in Edward's heart.

“I would do anything for him.” Jon continued, voice thick with likely unshed tears. “Anything to make him happy, anything to keep him safe, anything to keep him near me.”

“But none of that matters.” He whispered, sounding utterly destroyed.

“...Why not?” Margaret asked him softly, gently, concern audible in her voice.

“Look at me.” Jonathan told her. “People like Edward Nashton don’t love people like Jonathan Crane.”

There was a click, and the recording ended.

Edward quickly wiped at the tears that had fallen on the desk as the tape fell into silence. He replaced it back in the drawer, put his own tape back in the player, made sure everything was as he left it. He locked the door on the way out and went back upstairs as quickly as he could wouldn’t making a sound.

He slipped quickly into their room, clicking the door closed and hurrying as fast as he dared, straight to Jon’s bed. He put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, hissing his name quietly. That was all it took to have Jonathan’s eyes snapping open. He took Edward in. The frantic, wild look in his eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. He sat up quickly, automatically reaching out to comfort him, to ask what happened.

Edward just put his hands on Jon’s shoulders and looked at him very seriously.

“Kiss me.”

It was an order, though his voice was thick with tears and shaking badly. Jonathan blinked, looked around and reached for his glasses so he could properly assess the situation.

“Edward, what-”

“Jonathan Crane.” Edward cut him off, and Jonathan was taken aback by the sheer intensity he was projecting. “You are wonderful. You are intelligent and sarcastic. You have a lovely sense of humor and the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. I never feel safer than when you’re holding me, I never feel more wanted than when you smile at me, and you are the most important person in my life.” Edward took a deep, trembling breath.

“Kiss me.” He repeated.

Jonathan just stared at him, eyes wide and alarmed as he processed Edward’s words. He moved slowly, as if in a dream, very gently taking Edward’s face in his hands. His eyes lingered on Edward’s for a moment longer, searching for something. Carefully, terrified and excited and shaking with nerves, Jonathan leaned in and did as Edward said.

The kiss was soft. It lingered for a moment, a gentle gesture between them, neither of them quite sure how to do it properly. As far as first kisses went, it was… nice. Fireworks didn’t go off, but it wasn’t a disaster. It was sweet.

For Edward, the best part was the way Jonathan looked at him when the kiss ended.


	7. Up the Spiral Staircase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t believe this is real.” He admitted softly, lifting a hand to brush Edward’s hair from his face with utmost fondness. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up at any moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a helluva lotta violence my guys, and bullying.

“I want to apologize to the two of you.”

They were both sat in Margaret’s office, no priest in sight, as she addressed them from behind the desk.

“You two have both come so far with each others help,” she admitted, smiling as if she were hesitantly proud of them. “I cannot simply hinder that progress based on speculation. I’m sorry for any distressed this caused, particularly for you, Jonathan.” She sighed sadly, lips pressing into a thin line as she recalled his distress. “It was thoughtless of me to bring you before a religious figure without first consulting you. I’m sorry.”

The two boys looked at each other, incredulous. Adults never apologized to them. In their limited experience, adults always insisted they were right to the point of violence. It occurred to Edward that Margaret might sincerely care about them.

How strange.

“It’s… fine.” Edward told her. “I mean, I’m good. You good?” He turned to Jon, who simply shrugged.

“I suppose.”

“Yeah, we’re good.” He turned back to Margaret, nodding. “Don’t worry about it.”

Honestly, he wanted to play this for all it was worth. Neither he nor Jon were forgiving people, and they could potentially get a lot from Margaret because of this. But they wanted the whole thing to be forgotten. They didn’t want her to keep thinking about it. They wanted suspicion to fade, and so they had to let the issue die. She dismissed them shortly after that with another apology and a reminder to be down for supper. They wasted no time in leaving the office and heading up the stairs to their room. Jon’s long legs carried him further in a shorter time, and when Edward closed the bedroom door behind himself he immediately found himself pressed against the door with hands on his hips and lips pressed to his own.

He kissed back happily, throwing his arms around Jonathan’s neck to pull him closer, smiling against his lips. He couldn’t help how widely he grinned when they separated, and even Jon was smiling softly, a little shyly. He was blushing, Edward noted. On a whim, he pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek, one on each side where the blush was worst. It got darker in response, and Jon hid by pulling Edward closer and burying his face in his hair. Edward laughed, returning the embrace happily.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” Edward sighed against his boyfriend’s shoulder. His boyfriend. He couldn’t help but smile every time he thought that, holding Jon a bit closer.

“It’s certainly one less thing to worry about.” Jon agreed, pulling away to look down at Edward’s delighted expression. “I can’t believe this is real.” He admitted softly, lifting a hand to brush Edward’s hair from his face with utmost fondness. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up at any moment.”

It was such a sweet, honest sentiment. Edward couldn’t help but ruin it.

“Do you dream about me often?” He teased, sliding his hand over Jon’s where it had rested on his cheek. Jon’s entire face turned red. He pulled his hands back just to cover his face, and Edward’s laugh could only be described as a giggle, though he’d never call it that himself.

“You’re the worst.” Jon complained, pressing his fingers to his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Would you have me any other way?” Gently, Ed took his hands, pulling them away from his face and holding them. Jon shook his head, sighing in fond exasperation. When he replied, it was with a passion rarely heard from him.

“Not for a damn moment.”

Edward felt his own face heat up. All his life, he had only been told what he should change about himself and why. He had only ever been told how inadequate he was. But here was Jon, saying he liked him as himself. Tears gathered in his eyes.

“Did I say something wrong?” Jon asked suddenly, alarm in his voice as he quickly dropped Edward’s hands, lifting his own to wipe the tears as they fell.

“No.” Edward assured shakily, pulling Jon close to hug him again, mostly to hide the tears. “No, just… I keep thinking I’ll wake up.” He echoed Jon’s words, feeling long arms tighten around him as he sobbed with a smile.

 

\---------

It was after school and Edward was alone in the hallways. One of Jon’s teachers wanted to speak with him and it wasn’t safe for either of them to walk home alone, so Edward was wandering around as he waited. School wouldn’t be that bad, he thought, if there was simply no one else there.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard laughter in the distance.

He didn’t think much of it. Not at first anyway. But the laughter and chatter was approaching, the group of boys it belonged to turning a corner into view. Edward relaxed. They weren’t the ones from home. He should be fine. He leaned against a locker as he waited for them to pass by, not willing to be brushed up against in the narrow hallway. But they didn’t pass him. They encircled him.

He tried to bolt as soon they started to get too close, but one of them grabbed him and slammed him back against the locker as they all laughed at his attempts. Their apparent leader grabbed him by the hair, turning his head back and forth as he looked Edward over. He released him and backed off, leaving his friends to hold him down.

“You’re the new kid, then.” He nodded to himself, a grin starting to form on his face. They were all bigger than Edward. Seniors, like Jon. But not like Jon at all.

“Relatively, I suppose.” He tried to sound bored despite the way his heart was pounding. The boys laughed as if he were joking with them.

“You’re funny, new kid.”

“What is yours but others use more often?” Edward couldn’t stop himself before the words escaped him in a rush. The boys looked at each other, then back to him, confused.

“Come again?”

“What… what is yours,” Edward swallowed thickly. God, why was he doing this? Why was he saying this? He didn't want to say this! “But others use more often?”

They all stared at him blankly.

“Are you asking us _riddles?_ ” The leader laughed in disbelief.

“A name.” Edward provided. “The answer is a name. Mine isn’t 'new kid.'”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The leader mocked. “We didn’t even ask! How rude. And we haven’t introduced ourselves either, or given you a proper welcome! We should fix that. Introductions are super important.” He nodded very seriously. “For example: Face, meet fist!” His tone was downright chipper as he hit Edward with a right hook, his head slamming back against the lockers. “And fist, meet face!” A left hook. He was sure the locker behind him was dented. He wondered if his face would bruise evenly.

Edward couldn’t breathe through his nose. Too much blood, and when he opened his mouth to breathe he could taste copper. He felt sick. He looked up at the older boys, settling them with a flat, unimpressed gaze. He knew he shouldn’t provoke them. He knew he should stay quiet. He knew how to take a beating.

But god, he was so sick of quietly taking a beating.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, boys.” He laughed without humor, face aching as he grinned.

He didn’t even see the punch this time, but he certainly felt it. He heard a clatter as his glasses fell to the floor. He sighed deeply, hummed as if in consideration.

“I’ve had better.”

Another blow. He was feeling dizzy. If the locker hadn’t been dented before, it definitely was now.

He spit blood in the leader’s face.

“Try again, you neanderthal.”

The boys were looking at him in shock, the leader seeming to be at a loss.

“Holy shit.” He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. “Alright then. Let him go, boys.”

Wait, what?

The hands on his shoulders were gone, leaving him to slump against the lockers, head spinning. They were letting him go? No. Hands fisted in the front of his shirt, which was now drenched in blood, and threw him to the floor. He hit the tiles hard, but thankfully on his shoulder rather than his head.

He’d been kicked while he was down before, but only ever by one person at a time. He wasn’t sure how many there were now. His attention was taken by his inability to breathe with the air knocked out of his stomach. He couldn’t cry out in pain because he had no air with which to make a sound.

Until a foot slammed down on his awkwardly-bent leg.

He screamed. It was raw and agonizing, a howl of pain that seemed to resonate around the entire school. His assailants stumbled away from him in surprise, cursing.

“Oh shit!”

“Dude, you broke his leg!”

“I didn’t think it would-”

“Dude, shut up!”

His head was ringing, his eyes were screwed shut, the agony in his leg demanded all of his attention, even as he struggled for breath.

“What do we do!?”

“Shit, someone’s coming!”

“Bail!”

He heard their footsteps running away from him, and a single set of footsteps running towards him. He couldn’t even curl up because he couldn’t bend his leg. The newcomer dropped down beside him quickly, but when he tried to see who it was his vision swam. The person was talking to him in an urgent tone, but their voice was fading. Everything was fading. He’d lost consciousness plenty of times before. It usually came as a mercy.

“Jon?” He managed to choke out the question, his voice barely there. Was it Jon? He couldn’t tell. He tried to think logically about whether it could be him or not, but his brain gave up halfway to the solution.

Someone picked him up off the ground, and everything went dark.

 

\-------------------

 

He hadn’t been fond of Margaret before, but he certainly was now. She paid his medical bills without a second thought, got him something special for dinner, bought him new comfortable pillows for his bed, and his own little tub of ice cream. He'd never been so spoiled in his life.

It was almost worth the beating, Edward thought.

Jon, unsurprisingly, disagreed.

Jon didn’t get angry a lot. Or, he did, but he bottled it effectively. Edward could count on one hand how many times Jon outwardly express fury. He kept a cap on his emotional expression, and even Edward had trouble knowing exactly how Jon felt sometimes. But when Margaret had driven Edward home from the hospital, there was no question as to how Jon felt upon seeing him.

He was _livid._

Margaret left them in their room, trusting Jon to make sure Edward didn’t fall asleep with a concussion. Edward was terrified. Jon hadn’t said a word to him since he got home, could barely even look at him, but the sheer rage in his eyes and posture told Edward all he needed to know. He watched Jon pace frantically in their room, his own leg propped on his older pillows as he laid back on the new ones. Edward still felt rather dazed, but he was aware enough to be cautious.

“...Jon?” He tried softly, to no avail. Jon didn’t even seem to hear him. “Jonathan?” Still nothing. Edward sighed, cringing as he realized he’d have to be a bit more assertive. “Jonathan!” He snapped, though there was no real negative emotion behind it. Jon’s head snapped up as he looked at Edward, eyes blazing in such a way that it took everything Ed had to not shy away. Edward wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t what he got.

Jonathan was at his side in a second.

“What do you need?” He asked quickly, kneeling beside the bed. He was so tall that he could kneel on the floor and still face Edward properly. “Are you okay? Did your leg shift?”

“I- what?” Edward regarded him with no small amount of shock. In the time it had taken to blink the dangerous, dark look in Jon’s eyes was taken over by frightened concern. “No, no, I’m okay, I…” Talking made his face hurt, but he continued anyway. “Are you mad at me?” Jon was so taken aback by the question that he nearly fell backwards where he was kneeling on his toothpick legs. He gaped at Edward in shock for a moment before shaking his head.

“No.” He said immediately with no trace of uncertainty. “No, of course not, why would I be mad at you?”

“You seemed angry.” Edward watched him carefully, curiously. Jon’s reactions to things like this always baffled him. Jon laughed, that dark look coming back over his face, a cold rage permeating the sound.

“Angry…” He repeated, shaking his head. “That’s a delicate way to put it.” He continued bitterly, bowing his head and pressing his fingers to his eyes beneath his glasses. He sighed, dragging them down his face and dropping them heavily in his lap, looking up at Edward with utmost seriousness.

“I’m furious.” He continued. “I’m livid. The last time I felt this ‘angry,’ Edward, I literally _killed_ someone.” He took a breath, exhaling slowly a taking one of Edward’s hands. He held it in both of his own and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “But I’m not mad at you.” He assured, tone suddenly gentle. “I’m mad at the scum that did this to you.”

“You… want to kill them?” Edward tilted his head, feeling oddly unbothered by that revelation. Jon looked at him evenly, calculating, obviously trying to decipher the intentions behind the question. Still, he was absolutely certain when he spoke.

“Yes.”

“You would kill for me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

There was a moment where Edward just stared at him with stars in his eyes.

“I’d kiss you,” he began quietly, shakily. “If my lips didn’t hurt so badly.”

Jon smiled sadly and pressed another kiss to Edward's hand. Edward let his head fall back against the soft pillows, looking up at the ceiling with a smile so large his split lip began to bleed again.

“You’d _kill_ someone for me.” He repeated quietly. He felt Jon squeeze his hand, and when he spoke Edward felt the whispered words ghost against his skin.

“I’d kill _everyone_ for you.”

Edward closed his eyes, sighing softly.

“Everyone…”

“And anyone.” Jon added, then spoke again after a pause. “Edward, you can’t go to sleep.” Edward whined, opening his eyes just to pout. Jon was absolutely unmoved.

“But I’m _tired._ ” 

“You’re _concussed._ ”

“Fine.” He conceded, pulling his hand away from Jon despite the way it made the taller boy frown. “Then could you bring Curie over?” He watched as Jon stood, gently taking the little mouse from her cage and bringing her to his injured boyfriend. She squeaked happily upon being returned to her best friend, climbing up onto his shoulder and attempting to groom the mess that his hair had become.

“And can you bring up the ice cream?” He asked before Jon could sit down again. “If I need to stay up, I might as well eat something.” Jon looked hesitant, likely not wanting to leave Edward on his own, but left to go to the kitchen anyway. He closed the door behind himself, and Edward spoke to Curie once he was gone.

“He’d kill for me.” He told her happily, a little giddily. He put his hand near his shoulder and she climbed into it, gladly accepting the tiny pets he offered. “You know, darling…” He sighed, looking back up to the closed door.

“I think some _planning_ might be in order.”


	8. Where Are We Going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward, surprisingly, did not enjoy the library. It was too public. Too many people touching too many of the same things. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl. However, he had no access to a personal computer. The library had three computers available for public use, and despite the unreliable dial-up connection it was all he and Jonathan had access to.

Edward, surprisingly, did not enjoy the library. It was too public. Too many people touching too many of the same things. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl. However, he had no access to a personal computer. The library had three computers available for public use, and despite the unreliable dial-up connection it was all he and Jonathan had access to.

Jonathan, unsurprisingly, adored the library. He’d apparently spent most of his time there, before Edward came along, and Ed was willing to bet most of his own books had been stolen from it. He was terribly inept at anything to do with technology, however, and so he busied himself with reading in a chair beside Edward while the other boy typed away.

The work had to be done quickly. The internet disconnected any time the library’s phone was in use, and so Edward hurried in his less-than-legal endeavors. He didn’t need to print anything out. He only needed to read the information once to dedicate it to memory, and that just meant less evidence left behind.

After the incident at school, Edward had described the boys to Jon, who recognized them as some of his classmates. However, Jon did not know their names. He rarely paid attention to the other students, and only knew what those five boys looked like because he’d been their target more than once.

So, though he’d desperately wanted to remain at Edward’s side during his recovery, he had to go back. He had to listen carefully during roll-call. He had to write down their names in his notebook and brought them back to Edward. He only needed to read the names once, and then they burnt the paper with a lighter Edward had swiped from one of the other boys.

Now in the library, it was child's play for someone such as Edward to get into the schools system and into their poorly protected files. They had only gone digital recently, and their online security was atrocious. But that was just fine. Edward was able to gain information on the boys easily, then began to purge all evidence that he’d ever been at the computer. He turned to Jon with a smug grin that was utterly wasted. The taller boy was too far into his book to take note of anything around him.

Edward kicked out lightly with his good leg, tapping Jon’s shin. That gained his attention, looking up with an owlish expression of surprise. He was always so disoriented and dazed when pulled out of a book. Edward thought it was cute.

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

“For the hundredth time Edward, yes. I wanted to do it before you even brought it up.” He closed his book, putting it aside and leveling Edward with a gaze that left no room for argument. The library was just about empty, the librarian attending to something in her office. The few stranglers were out of earshot as Jon continued. “They deserve to suffer for what they did to you. I will not allow them to get away with it.”

Edward chewed his lip nervously, causing Jon to sigh.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that in public. I am sorely tempted to kiss you every time you do.”

“I wish you would.” Edward teased, releasing his lip to smile.

“I wish I _could._ ” Jon sighed again, more melancholic than before. The need for discretion in public was... discouraging. Still, Edward gave him a crooked smile, trying to cheer him up.

“Well we’re done here now, and when we get home you can kiss me all you like.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that.” Jon complained, standing from his seat and grabbing Edward’s crutches for him. “You’d be promising away your whole night.” He was kidding mostly but Edward just grinned, accepting his crutches and Jon’s assistance in standing. If only as an excuse to hold onto him.

“You won’t catch me complaining.” He admitted as he stood, his face near Jon’s. The other boy flushed bright red and Edward couldn’t help but laugh at him a little as they left. The stairs at the front of the building gave the still-recovering boy no small amount of trouble. He was more than ready for his leg to heal already.

“...Edward?” The silence was broken as they headed home. The walk wasn’t far, thankfully, otherwise Edward would try to talk Jon into carrying him. He hummed in acknowledgement, waiting for Jon to continue. The older boy cleared his throat awkwardly, wringing his hands and avoiding Edward’s eyes.

“When you say things like that, do you… mean it?” He risked a glance at Edward but looked away quickly. “I just mean. I know I’m not... I am aware of my… flaws. I know I’m not very attractive. If you don’t want to- I mean, I wouldn’t be offended if-”

“Hey, Jon?” Ed interrupted with false cheer. Jon finally looked at him, and the clear anxiety he was feeling made Edward’s stomach do flips. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready or when will be the right time. But one of these days, I will _absolutely_ want you to wreck me. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Sweet Christ-” His companion choked on air, just about tripping over his own long legs and drawing laughter from Edward, making them both stop on the sidewalk as Jon tried and failed to compose himself. “I- That- You can’t just say things like that! I still can’t tell if you’re joking or- or mocking me!” Edward tilted his head at Jon’s distress, eyebrows coming together in concern.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” His question seemed to bring Jon up short, the taller boy seeming almost bashful about his outburst.

“...Only if it’s a joke. Only if you- you don’t mean it.”

“Jon.” He wished he had his hands free. Or maybe it was better he didn’t. Pulling Jon towards himself the way he wanted to would almost definitely rouse public suspicion. “I’m serious. You’re my boyfriend. I like it when we cuddle, I like it when we kiss, I like it when we touch, and I will most likely enjoy it when we fuck.” There was Jon dying again. Edward continued regardless. “I also like it when we read together. I like watching you write in your notebook. I’m into you. I wouldn’t be dating you if I wasn’t.”

They slowly started down the sidewalk again, nerves still rolling off of Jon in near-visible waves.

“... It might take me some time to believe that.”

“I understand,” and he did. All too well. “But listen, it’s not just about what I want. I’ll tell you if I don’t want to do something, but you need to do the same.” That just made Jon laugh.

“Not much chance of that…” He admitted in a flustered mutter.

“There _is_ a chance though. We could be trying something and you realize you aren’t comfortable with it. You don’t owe me anything, okay? We need to be honest with each other.” Edward thought for a moment, chewing over his words. “...I… don’t want one of us to get hurt because of an avoidable miscommunication. I don’t want this to become just another let down. This is probably the only good thing I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t want to taint it.”

There was silence after his words, and they were almost home by time Jon replied.

“I understand exactly what you mean.”

It was a relief when Edward was able to drop onto his bed again. The crutches were such a strain on his arms, and they ached more than his leg when he was finally able to relax. Jon sat on the side of his own bed instead of Edward’s, causing the injured boy to frown and reach out a hand.

“You’re too far away.” He complained, drawing Jon’s eyes from the floor to himself. He was troubled. Was it the conversation they had had? Edward’s stomach twisted with anxiety. He’d crossed a line. He’d said too much. He’d made Jon genuinely uncomfortable and now Jon was sick of him and-

“I don’t want to kill them.”

Oh.

“Okay.” Edward replied rather lamely. He couldn’t act like he wasn’t disappointed, but if Jon wasn’t comfortable killing people then Ed wasn’t going to force him to do so. Still, he’d been so… excited. He’d been so thrilled that someone was willing to do such a thing for him. Was he not worth that anymore? Had he ever been worth that?

No, he hadn’t been. He already knew that.

“It’s just…” Jon began, his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands and not meeting Edward’s eyes.

“Jon, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain-”

“Edward, let me talk.” Jon cut him off in an uncharacteristically stern fashion. He was like that with everyone else, but not Edward. That was it, Edward thought. The beginning of the end. This was Jon deciding he was done.

“I don’t want to kill them because death is too good for them.”

Jon’s explanation brought Edward up short. He just gaped at his friend, at a loss for words, until Jon continued with a disgusted shake of his head. Disgust that was definitely not aimed at Ed.

“They hurt you. They made you suffer. To simply kill them would be letting them off too easy. They should suffer as well. They need to properly pay for their crimes.” His hands were clenched around each other so tightly Edward could see the whites of his knuckles. “My grandmother drew out my pain for years, but hers ended in seconds. I won’t make that mistake again.” He finally looked Ed in the eyes, his own betraying no uncertainty. Simply cold determination.

“I heard you scream, Edward. I heard the agony. I heard the panic, the _terror_ they instilled in you. I ran, but I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t the one to find you. I still have nightmares where I can hear you screaming, crying out for me, begging me to help you or for whoever is hurting you to stop- and I run, but no matter how quickly I try to get there it is never enough. You’re always too far away. I can’t help you, I can’t save you, and they just keep _hurting_ you. But the worst part is… I wake up, and it wasn’t just a nightmare. It really happened.” He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes and bowing his head, hands trembling visibly where they were clutched.

“I don’t want to kill them.” Jon continued quietly. “I want them to _wish_ we had.”

Edward reached his hand back out again.

“You’re too far away.” He repeated his earlier complaint, his tone much softer. Jon looked absolutely baffled but took his hand anyway, standing and letting himself be gently pulled to Edward’s bed. It had taken a while to find a position to lie together with Edward’s leg, but at that point they’d gotten very practiced at it. Edward shifted to the edge of the bed until Jon laid down, and then Edward very simply laid on him. Jon wrapped his arms around his friend as Ed hummed in contentment.

“I love it when you say things like that.” Edward sighed happily, his own arm thrown across Jonathan’s chest.

“I keep expecting you to be scared off.”

“Not much chance of that. I want them to pay too… and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, that you’re this upset about people hurting me.” He felt Jonathan’s arms tighten around him, and it made him smile. “It shows me you care.”

“Of course I care.” Jon mumbled, voice so quiet it was only audible from Edward’s position, pressed so close against him.

“You say that like it’s obvious, but you’re the first to ever do so.”

“...I know.” Edward felt Jon kiss the top of his head. “And you’re the first to ever care about me.”

“It’s lucky we’ve found each other. I’m… I don’t really want to think of what would have happened otherwise.”

“I think…” Jon began, sounding pensive. “I think, if I had gone long enough the way I had been headed… I would have gone cold. I think my heart would have died, and if we had met after that… I’m not sure I would have had the capacity to care for you.” He was whispering, and even as close as he was, Ed strained to hear. “I don’t much like the thought of that.”

“I don’t either. I like your heart.”

“You should. It’s yours.”

Edward pressed his face into the fabric of Jon’s shirt, but it did nothing to hide that he’d started crying.


	9. What Do You Want From Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the edge of town, there was a blemish on the otherwise quaint, cute appearance of the small town. An abandoned house, left vacant for ages, left standing because of complicated legal battles regarding who exactly owned the land. The structure was in absolute disrepair, the wood rotting and glass broken. There were rumors. People said that at night a figure could be seen in the upstairs window. That was an easily disproved claim, Edward thought. In the dark of night, no one would be able to see anything through the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't think of anything in this chapter that would require a warning but just let me know if you want something added. I'm sorry this took so long. I hit a bit of a low and had trouble making myself do much of anything. I tried my best to make it worth the wait ♥

On the edge of town there was a blemish on the otherwise quaint, cute appearance of the small community. An abandoned house, left vacant for ages, left standing because of complicated legal battles regarding who exactly owned the land. The structure was in absolute disrepair, the wood rotting and glass broken. There were rumors. People said that at night a figure could be seen in the upstairs window. That was an easily disproved claim, Edward thought. In the dark of night, no one would be able to see anything through the windows.

But the superstition and stories still spread among the younger citizens. It was innocent fun, a thrill, and Jon was going to use it to tear them apart. It took months to set everything up properly, partially due to how careful they had to be. They could not be seen entering or leaving the house, especially not at such common intervals. In addition, Edward’s mobility was severely reduced even once the cast was removed.

He sat on the floor, his cane laid out beside him, watching as Jon used his considerable height to attach strings to the ceiling of one of the old bedrooms. They were final touches, bits of flair. The real traps were already set, prepared to spring to life and breathe terror into the already heavy atmosphere of the house. Edward turned his eyes back to the task before him. Fabric laid out on his lap, a needle and thread in hand.

The traps would prove useful, but the real event of the night would be the living scarecrow stalking the teens through the house. The stuff of nightmares. With Jon’s proportions and the dark cover of night, the boys wouldn’t know what hit them. Still, Edward was nervous. There was no guarantee they would all run. Some of them could lash out and try to fight Jon. He could get hurt. If they found out who he was, what they were doing, and Jon was the only one there to pay for it…

“Edward,” a quiet voice cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to see Jon stepping away from his completed work, eyes on the ceiling as he checked it over. “Your hands are shaking.”

So they were. He took a deep breath, swallowed thickly, and tried to get himself under control.

“You don’t have to be a part of this-” Jon began carefully, but Edward was already shaking his head, eyes on his own hands.

“That’s not it. I just… don’t want you to get hurt.” He explained, chewing his lip as Jon approached and sat on the floor before him. “Especially not on my account.”

“Edward. Look at me.” A cold hand tilted his face up, forcing their eyes to meet. Jon’s always took his breath away. “There is no one else I would do this for. You are worth the risk. However, I assure you, I will be fine.” One hand on Edward’s cheek, the other ran through his hair. Edward forced himself to breathe again. Deep breaths. One. Two. Jon kept stroking his hair through it, until his hands were no longer shaking.

Still, the uncertainty was there. His teeth found his lower lip again, digging into the already-sore skin. Jon’s eyes darted to his lips, and Edward remembered what he had said about that habit. He also remembered that their time in the house was the only time they had ever been completely alone together. Even in their room, there were others just beyond the walls.

His teeth released his lip just as Jon leaned in and kissed him. The contact had grown more confident with practice, and after so much time they moved easily together. It always started soft and sweet, light and adoring. Sometimes it stopped there. Sometimes it was just an expression of fondness.

Sometimes, it was different.

Edward put his sewing aside, leaving it behind and shifting closer to Jon. The taller boy moved his hands to Edward’s hips in response, mostly to help him as his knee refused to cooperate. Edward’s stomach was in knots. As much as he enjoyed himself, he was nervous. He doubted himself. He was terrified to do something wrong, even as Jon was assuring him without words that he was doing everything right. He wanted to be bold. He wanted to make a move.

He didn’t want to be rejected or laughed at. He didn’t want Jon to talk to him in that hard tone he used with others, asking what the hell he thought he was doing. He knew, logically, that that wasn’t what would happen. If Jon wanted him to stop then he would say so, but not cruelly. Still… What if?

Edward could see every possibility to every situation, and always assumed the worst result to be the most likely. But Jon always provided the best result. Jon always defied his expectations.

He gathered up his courage and climbed into Jon’s lap.

He hadn’t wanted to be laughed at. Jon did laugh, but it wasn’t the sort of derisive, mocking sound Edward heard in his head. It was short, just an amused puff of air Edward only caught because he was so close. Jon didn’t push him away. He pulled him closer until they were flush against each other. Edward tangled his hands in Jon’s hair, making a small sound of approval at the results of his actions.

Then Jon pulled away. He laid his hands on Edward’s shoulders, holding him at bay for a moment as be breathed. The blush on his cheeks was darker than Edward had ever seen before. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

“Edward,” his voice was strained and breathless as he spoke. “If we continue in this… direction…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly and glancing away. Edward tilted his head, running a hand through Jon’s hair gently.

“We can stop, if you want to.”

“Do you… want to?”

“...I don’t know.” Edward admitted honestly, climbing off of his lap and back to his original seat. “It’s fun. I enjoy doing things like that with you, and I know I’d enjoy doing more. But I… don’t think I’m quite ready to go all the way. There… there’s a lot of factors and I like it in theory but I’m not sure I’m ready in practice? Does that make sense?” Edward’s nerves colored his words, but Jon was already nodding, smiling fondly as he finally met Edward’s eyes again.

“It makes perfect sense. That… describes my feelings as well, really. I want to, but…”

Edward couldn’t resist.

“Do you think about it?” He grinned as Jon choked on air, unable not to giggle at the reaction. Jon was so easy to embarrass. “I do. A lot. I never did before.” He admitted, and that made Jon pause.

“...Really?”

“Really. I had no interest. But with you? There’s an awful lot I want to do with you.” Jon covered his face, and so Edward continued, his grin never leaving even as he lowered his voice in quite the theatrical manner. “The things I’d let you do to me…”

“You’re killing me. I’m going to die right here and it’s going to be your fault.” His words were muffled by his hands, and all Edward could do was laugh. “...But I do. Think about it, I mean. With you.” He admitted to his palms.

“Oh, I know.” Edward shrugged, picking up the burlap costume and resuming his work as if nothing had happened. He could practically feel Jonathan’s baffled expression. “We share a room, Jonathan. I know.” 

He looked up just in time to see Jon’s face go completely red.

\-----

The plan depended on Edward being able to make his way through the house quickly and quietly in the darkness. That wouldn’t have been a problem before. As flashy as he liked to be, Edward had a natural talent for going unseen. He could move quickly and quietly, find his way through cluttered spaces in the dark without a sound or stumble, pick locks or pockets or snatch something off a table. His father used to call him a sneaky little thie, and he was absolutely right, but Edward was not ashamed of that. He was proud of it. It was the nicest thing his father had ever yelled at him.

But that was before. They tried to put off the plan until his leg healed, but as time went on and doctor’s visits became less optimistic, it became clear that Edward’s leg would never properly heal. The joint would always be weak, the tendons would always protest. He would always need his cane, the doctor said. Even on good days when his leg felt fine, he would pay for it later if he went without. He tried not to get too upset about it, but he couldn’t help the bitterness. The resentment. What the boys at school had done to him would follow him for the rest of his life.

Well. He’d just have to make sure to pay them back in kind.

Except, suddenly, Jon would not allow him to do that.

“You’re not coming.” He told Edward sternly as he stood at the window, ready to slip through. It was the middle of the night, everyone else was asleep, and they were finally done putting things off. But when Edward slipped on black clothing and a dark hat, Jon stopped him at the window. His expression was a mask of grim seriousness and stubborn determination. He would not allow Edward to aid in the plan. Well, Edward could be just as hard-headed.

“Yes I am, Jon. We’re wasting time.”

“No, _you’re_ wasting _my time._ ” Jon corrected with false patience, and Edward bristled at the implication that he could ever be a waste of time. “You are _not_ going.”

“Yes I am!”

“No, you’re not.”

“So what, am I supposed to just sit around here and wring my hands, waiting at the window for your return like a good little housewife?” He put on a mockingly sweet tone, clutching his hands together and fluttering his eyelashes in a caricature of what he described. He quickly dropped it and resumed his enraged stance. “Is that what you want me to be, Jon?” 

“You know it isn’t.” He shifted uncomfortably. Good. Edward _wanted_ to make him uncomfortable.

“I did most of the actual planning! I plotted and placed most of the traps! I am the injured party in all this! I have more of a right to be there than you do!”

“Lower your voice, Edward.” Jonathan hissed at him through his teeth, one hand clutching the edge of the window and the other holding his burlap mask. Edward seethed at being silenced, and even moreso at the fact that Jon was right. They couldn’t afford to wake anyone up.

“How exactly do you think this will go if you’re on you own, hm?” Edward whispered, his tone no less furious. “The plan was that you chase them and I activate the traps as you go. You can’t be in two places at once, Jon.”

“That was the plan, yes. When we thought you’d be able to do it.” Jon sighed, finally releasing the window to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Edward, you move significantly slower now. You knee gives out regularly and you aren’t used to your cane yet. You’re clumsy. You’re slow. Even if you can make it everywhere in time, you’ll almost certainly give yourself away or injure yourself further in the process.” He dropped his hand, leveling Edward with a look that spoke of only wanting what was best for him. Edward did not care.

Jon spoke rationally, but with every word Edward felt himself growing colder. His hostile, aggressive posture slipped into something more still, less charged. Less of a poised animal and more of a stone statue. His pinched expression slid into neutral detachment, and he regarded Jon with something akin to disdain. If Jon's eyes could turn to ice, then Edward's could become the chilled void of space, standing in stark contrast to the warmth and life they usually held.

“You don’t think I can do it.” He summed up Jon’s words simply, his voice as empty as the rest of him. He felt nothing but an ache in his heart and a throb in his knee. “I’m a liability and I’m useless to you now.”

“Edward, that’s not-” Jon began, realizing that despite his best intentions, he had somehow fucked up in a major way. But he didn't know how to fix it, and Edward didn't give him the chance.

“You should have waited.” Edward told him simply, coldly, turning away from him and toward his dresser. “You shouldn’t have cast me aside until after I called them. I have their numbers, remember?” He stopped in front of Curie’s cage, turned to Jon and tapped the side of his head. He saw Jonathan tense as he realized his mistake. The blank expression allowed for a smirk, but no satisfaction reached Edward's eyes. Jonathan took a deep breath and tried to calm the situation.

“...Edward, please-”

“You’re not one to waste words, Jon.” Edward cut him off, no longer looking at him, simply taking Curie out and gently petting her in greeting. It was a blessing, honestly, that mice were nocturnal by nature. She squeaked at him happily, glad to see him. Always so, so glad to see him. “So you should know I won’t listen to anything you have to say right now. Don’t even bother.”

And he didn’t.

He closed the window quietly, changed out of the burlap and slid into bed with a book. Edward sat on his own with his mouse. She didn’t think anything was different about him. She didn’t love him any less or cut him out of anything. Curie was perfect. Curie was the best thing he’d ever had in his life. She loved him unconditionally no matter what happened, and he loved her in return.

He and Jon did not speak for the rest of the night, and neither of them slept.


	10. You Say I Need to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did he deserve it? There must have been something, right? His whole life had been miserable. His parents made his life hell and made it clear he wasn’t wanted, he couldn’t connect to his peers at all, school bullies snapped his leg, and the best thing he’d ever had was lost to him now. He didn’t know if he was giving up Jon for good. He didn’t know if that was what he wanted. Hell, he could hardly remember why he was so dead-set on being obstinate about this. Why couldn’t they at least talk about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I apologized for the delay just tonight, but the outpouring of support made me want to give you all something in return. This was almost done, so I finished it up for you. Thank you to everyone for your kind words ♥
> 
> Warnings for violence and ableism and violence against ableists.

Jon tried to speak with him the next morning, but Edward walked right past him and down to breakfast. Jon tried to speak to him at breakfast but Edward had placed himself squarely in the middle of everything despite his hatred for all the commotion, just so Jon could not sit near him. He tried to speak to Edward after in their room, but the other boy simply picked up a book and started reading. He kept trying, over and over again, until it was well past lights out and Edward was pretending to sleep. Jon was simply sat on the side of his own bed, at a loss for what to do.

“Edward, please. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Nothing.

“Can we talk about this? I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”

Edward had never been so quiet for so long before. It was unnerving.

“You aren’t a burden and you aren’t useless, I was just… worried. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you because of me.”

The silence was oppressive. Jonathan had always sought silence in his life. Now he had it, and he would do anything to rid himself of it.

“...I miss you.” He said so softly that Edward almost couldn’t hear, and was sure he wasn’t meant to make out the words. He almost sat up. He almost turned around and agreed to talk about it. He almost dropped the silent treatment and went over to hug his boyfriend and make up. He wanted to be held. He felt so cold and hollow and horrible, and he wanted Jon to hold him.

He stayed in bed facing the wall, and Jon said nothing more that night.

\--

Edward was filled with restless energy. He was angry. He was frustrated. He was upset with Jon, furious at the boys who had ruined his leg, and absolutely livid that once again everyone who had hurt him would get away with it. It wasn’t fair!

But then, when had life ever been fair to him?

Did he deserve it? There must have been something, right? His whole life had been miserable. His parents made his life hell and made it clear he wasn’t wanted, he couldn’t connect to his peers at all, school bullies snapped his leg, and the best thing he’d ever had was lost to him now. He didn’t know if he was giving up Jon for good. He didn’t know if that was what he wanted. Hell, he could hardly remember why he was so dead-set on being obstinate about this. Why couldn’t they at least talk about it?

They couldn’t because Edward wouldn’t. But why wouldn’t he? He couldn’t think of a valid reason. The mature thing to do would be to discuss why he’d been upset with what Jon had said. But he didn’t want to do the mature thing. He wanted to be angry. Besides, it would only be delaying the inevitable. Jon was a good thing. Edward wasn’t allowed to keep good things.

He was getting used to the cane, though the stairs still gave him no small amount of trouble. Showers were stressful too, because if he slipped he didn’t know if he’d have the balance to catch himself anymore. Still, he’d managed without incident thus far. He didn’t even bother bringing the cane with him to the bathroom. It was only down the hall, and he couldn’t bring it into the shower anyway. There was still an uneven quality to his gait as he headed back down the hall towards his room in his pajamas, hair still wet and towel on his arm to be thrown in with the laundry.

He barely even took note of anyone he’d passed. Most of them left him alone since the incident and that was just fine with him.

His foot caught on something solid in his path.

Edward pitched forward. The thought crossed his mind that there had been nothing on the floor, just a moment before he was, in fact, something on the floor. He hit it hard, his chin smacking against the hardwood flooring and his teeth clacking together painfully. His shoulders and wrists ached from the sudden impact. Thankfully, he’d face-planted, and his knees took very little damage.

People were laughing. He could hear them above him, joking with each other at his expense. Edward felt something he was quite familiar with. Any time his father had struck him, along with the fear and sadness and despair, he’d feel a violent, resentful rage. His bones would bounce with the barely contained energy of it, every part of him longing to lash out and dish out some of what he’d been dealt. He’d always held it back before. He’d never been willing to deal with the consequences of giving in.

“Aw, poor thing!” One of his old friends mocked above him. Edward slowly pushed himself up and turned to face them. “Can barely walk down the hallway on his own!”

“They should’ve cut the leg off for all the good it’s doing!”

Edward took a breath and tried to calm down.

“You gonna cry, Eddie? Are you embarrassed? Does it bother you that-”

The boy did not get to finish his taunts. Edward launched himself at him with a strength he didn’t know he had and a yell of fury that would surely alarm the entire house. The boy fell backwards with Edward on top of him and had no time to react before freckled fists were being brought down on his face.

“Fuck you!” He screamed as he took out years of pent up anger. The other boys backed away, not knowing what to do, looking at each other but coming up with nothing. “You think you can push me around? You think you can trip me up and walk all over me and I won’t do anything about it?! I’ll fucking kill you, you ass! I’ll rip your fucking eyes out! I’ll-”

Someone grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him up off the boy like an angry cat by the scruff of the neck.

“Put me down! Put me- Do not _manhandle_ me, I am not-” He flailed and fought as he was dragged backwards. There was a crowd in the hallway, and he could see Margaret’s horrified expression at the events that unfolded before her. She blinked rapidly, shook her head in dismay, and then spoke to whoever was holding Edward back without taking her eyes off of the writhing boy on the floor.

“Take him to my office, Jonathan.” She spoke quietly, tonelessly, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed. What she was currently witnessing. Edward was still screaming bloody murder, kicking out blindly with his good leg as Jonathan tried to wrestle him down the stairs. He didn’t even seem to care who he hit, as long as he got to hit something. He wanted to hurt someone. That was all.

The arms around him tightened, pulled him firmly against the tall, gangly boy trying to restrain him. There was no pause in his struggling, even when lips brushed against his ear and Jon spoke:

“Edward. Stop.”

Edward stopped.

Jon’s voice had been soft and his words were simple. He was almost whispering, and Edward had the thought that Jon sounded absolutely exhausted. He couldn’t help but worry. Had he been sleeping properly? Then he remembered he shouldn’t be worried. He remembered he was angry with Jon and that he should not do what Jon told him to do. But by time that occurred to him, Jon was already dragging him down the stairs and through the hall into Margaret's office. The office door shut, and Edward jerked into movement suddenly enough to catch Jon off-guard, knocking him back into a wall as Edward put as much space between them as possible, pressing himself to the opposite side of the room.

“ _Don’t touch me._ ” He seethed, meeting Jon’s alarmed eyes with a poisonous glare. “You’ve lost that privilege.” He expected satisfaction when he saw the hurt in Jon’s eyes, but he only felt empty, and a moment later Jon had closed off again.

“What were you _thinking?_ ” He changed the subject, turning the scrutiny onto Edward and clearly forcing himself to hide the hurt with disdainful disapproval. “Attacking them so blatantly-”

“Was I supposed to let them get away with it?”

“You were supposed to be _smart!_ ”

“I _am_ smart!”

“Are you? Because right now, I’m not so sure! If you were thinking _rationally_ you would know you’ve made things a million times _worse_ for yourself. You hurt Dylan badly,” their leader, Edward recalled. “They won’t let you get away with that. They are going to do so much _worse_ to you, Edward.” Jon was trying to impress the seriousness of the situation on him, but the other boy couldn’t bring himself to care.

“So? Why are you even worried about it? Why do you give a damn?” Edward yelled across the room, clearly taking Jon off-guard as the taller boy straightened suddenly, eyes wide and mouth open slightly in shock. He stared for a moment, before rage and betrayal took over his features.

“You think I don’t give a damn?!”

“I _know_ you don’t!” Edward shot back, determined not to shrink in the face of a raised voice.

“ _Just because you don’t care about me anymore does not mean I don’t care about you!_ ” Jon just about screamed at him, the loudest Edward had ever heard him, filled with a furious despair and a despairing fury that made Edward’s blood run cold. Then something in Jonathan snapped, a string holding him together coming completely undone. He shivered and slumping back against the wall, curling in on himself and holding his head in his hands. There was a strange, strangled sound, quiet and shaky. Was he crying?

“Jon-” Edward began gently, stepping forward despite his hesitation.

“You can’t do this to me.” He was definitely crying. There were no sobs, no wailing, but his weakened voice shook with obvious tears as he hid his face. “You can’t- can’t make me care about you and make me think- make me believe I could- I could be _enough_ \- that I could _matter_ to someone, and then just- just take it away like it never _mattered_ \- and not even talk to me about it-”

Edward froze. That… That was what he’d done, wasn’t it? He’d been so wrapped up in himself, with thoughts such as good things not being meant for him and not wanting to admit fault. It didn’t occur to him that he’d been a good thing for Jon too, and that he’d snatched it away from him with no warning. There was no hesitance as he approached in earnest, limping heavily after the events of the evening. Jon continued his hoarse ramblings, not realizing Edward was growing closer.

“I just wanted to keep you safe- I didn’t want you to get hurt or- or lose you- I-” 

Edward swallowed thickly and laid a gentle hand on Jon’s trembling shoulder, guiding him forward. There was an instant flinch, but then he went easily, hands dropping from his face to grab onto the back of Edward’s pajama shirt. It was like the first time they’d touched, right down to the tears soaking Ed’s shoulder. This time, however, Edward welcomed the touch and returned it, wrapping his arms around the taller boy and threading his fingers through his hair as he cried.

“I know.” He assured in a hoarse whisper, both due to the emotion of the moment and his previous yelling. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry, Jon- I care. I promise I care.” He’d never really seen Jon cry before. Any time he’d let tears fall in Edward’s presence had been under the cover of darkness. But this was washed in the dull shining lamps of the office, and there was no way for Edward to ignore what he’d done to someone he professed to care about.

“I was an ass.” Ed admitted, despite every part of him wanting to deny any wrongdoing. He felt choked up himself as he held Jon a little tighter. The other boy sniffled and tried to get a hold of himself as Edward continued. “I’m sorry. You… you were trying to be a good- You were trying to look out for me. I shouldn’t have taken it so personally and I shouldn’t have tried so hard to be mad at you-”

“Why would you _try_ to be mad at me?” Jon managed, voice thin and trembling as he pulled away to fix his questioning gaze on Edward. He was at such a loss as to why Edward would do that to him. Well, so was Ed himself. He tried to think of a good enough reason,] and came up short.

“I was selfish. I… At first I was genuinely upset, but then when I realized I was wrong, I… I didn’t want to admit it, and I didn’t want my apology to be rejected, and I figured I’d lose you eventually anyway-”

“Edward, why would you think you’d lose me?” He sounded so very tired, and suddenly Edward was as well. He shrugged, looking away to some spot on the floor.

“I’m not supposed to have good things.”

“...You think I’m a good thing?”

“You’re the best.” Edward looked up at him, timid after having been such a source of trouble in Jon’s life. The taller boy simply stared at him, searching and baffled. “I’m sorry.” He repeated. Jon sighed, shaking his head in exasperation and wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Don’t do that to me again.” He told the other boy sternly despite the remnants of tears in his tone. Edward felt rather like a scolded dog, but he simply nodded.

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious, Edward,” and he was. Everything from his tense posture to his hard gaze communicated a grim sincerity. “I took a risk letting you in. I won’t allow you to use that access to hurt me in such a profound way simply because your ego is bruised.”

“That’s not-” His argument was cut off with a narrowing of eyes, causing him to deflate and concede. “I won’t do it again.”

“I’m hoping we can come to a similar agreement.” A new voice spoke, sounding infinitely more drained than either teen could even comprehend. Margaret shut the door softly behind herself, her graying hair in disarray and blood on the fabric of her nightgown. “Jonathan, please step outside. I need to speak with Edward alone.”

“But-” They both started at the same time, but the old woman simply shook her head. She hadn’t looked at either of them since entering the room.

“Don’t argue with me tonight, boys.” She didn’t sound angry. The only word Edward could think of for her tone was ‘finished.’ She moved slowly to sit at her desk, trying to sit straight and tall despite the exhaustion clear in the air around her. “Wait in your room, Jonathan. He will be up shortly.”

Jonathan hesitated to do as she said, but she simply looked at him and spoke in a tone that was not at all reassuring.

“I assure you, this will not take long at all.”


	11. Bones Are Stretching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I missed this.” Jon admitted quietly as Edward held him in return. “I missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussions of fear. Sorry this took so long. I'm writing two other scriddler fics and my final project is due soon.

As soon as Edward opened the door to their room, Jonathan was rushing towards him urgently. It took the shorter boy by surprise, making him almost fall over as he tried to close the door. Hands on his arms steadied him, and as he processed the situation he found himself in he realized Jon was looking him over.

“Are you alright?” His voice was shaking. Was it from this strange fear or from earlier? “What did she do?”

“What? She didn’t do anything,” Edward informed him with apparent confusion, taking Jon’s hands to stop their search for injuries. He looked to Jon’s eyes for some sort of explanation, but the other boy was just gaping at him, trying to make sense of what Edward was telling him. He seemed to snap out of it, shaking his head quickly.

“But she- the way she said- I thought she was going to-”

“She said,” Edward cut him off gently, dropping one of his hands so he could run his fingers through Jon’s hair in some attempt to calm him. “There is zero tolerance for violence. She said that usually she’d… have someone removed from the house if they were a danger to the other children, but considering ‘all I’ve been through’ lately she’s going to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Jon’s face, which had lost all color when Edward mentioned being removed, visibly relaxed. The taller boy closed his eyes and sighed in some attempt to calm his heart-rate, pulling Edward into a tight embrace and burying his face in his hair. They gave themselves a moment.

“I missed this.” Jon admitted quietly as Edward held him in return. “I missed you.”

“I’m sorry.” Edward mumbled into the fabric of Jon’s sweater. “I was being stupid.”

“Yeah,” Jon admitted, “but even geniuses are allowed to do stupid things sometimes.” He pulled back so they could look at each other, and the sheer fondness in Jonathan’s eyes brought Edward up short. He didn’t know what to say. Jon did so much for him and cared so much about him, and what did Edward do in return? What did Edward give him? What if Jon didn’t really care about him? What if he didn’t really like Ed? What if he only thought he did because Edward was the first to present him with the opportunity?

Ed didn’t want to think about that. So he didn’t. Instead, he pulled Jon down and kissed him hard, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other tangled in the mess that was his hair. As always, Jon seemed more than willing, and though Edward had initiated the kiss, Jon was the one to take control of it. That was fine with Edward. He had other things on his mind.

Still clutching Jon close, he gradually stepped backwards, and it wasn’t long before he found one of their beds in the small room. He sat down, breaking the kiss to move up against the pillows. Ed held out a hand, beckoning for Jonathan to join him. The other boy hesitated.

“We can just kiss like we were, if you want.” He offered. “But my knee hurts. I can’t stand anymore. Though, of course, we don’t have to do anything at all.” It wasn’t a manipulation. Edward was sincerely sick of having to stand and wouldn’t be put out if Jon wanted some space, especially after how awful Ed had been. Jon wrung his hands for a moment, considering, then took a breath and joined Edward on the bed. They tried to kiss again, but their glasses hit off of each other, causing them both to recoil with surprised, embarrassed laughter.

Jon was essentially blind without his glasses, and so Edward removed his own and placed them on the nightstand. Things went much smoother on the second try, though Edward just would not stop talking between kisses.

“Do people leave their glasses on during sex?” He pondered, but Jon didn’t seem too concerned about the answer.

“You’d have to ask someone who’s had sex.”

“But what if your glasses fall off of your face and hit me?”

“Then I will be very sorry and very embarrassed.” Jon sighed, a bit exasperated, giving up on Edward’s lips and kissing down his neck.

It was the strangest thing. Try to occupy his mouth, Edward just kept talking. But the moment Jon’s lips met his neck there was a small sound and then silence. Jon was careful, pressing his lips against Edward’s pulse slowly, deliberate, curious about the new phenomenon that was Edward actually shutting up. His hand was tugging almost painfully at his partners hair, but he didn’t seem to be trying to pull him off. Still, Jon paused, staying close and speaking softly against his skin.

“Edward?” There was no response. “Should I stop?”

“I- um.” Much to Jon’s surprised, Edward seemed to be the one flustered for once. His face was bright red when Jon pulled back to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was, but Jonathan knew he did not want to be a cause of distress in the other boys life.

“You didn’t upset me.” Edward pulled his hands back to cover his face, muffling his words. The confusion only grew.

“I don’t understand. What’s wrong?” The response Jon received was muffled. “I- Edward, stop that.” He gently took Ed’s hands away from his face, catching the other boy biting his lip and avoiding eye contact.

“…I liked it.” He admitted quietly, but that just made everything more baffling.

“Okay? Is that… bad?”

“No, I- Jon.” Edward finally looked at him pointedly, as if trying to silently communicate something. “I _liked_ it. A lot.”

“Yes, you’ve said that and- _Oh._ Oh.” Now both their faces were red. “…I should make a note.” He sat up as if reaching for his notebook, but was promptly held back from doing so as Edward basically tackled him back down in a panic.

“Don’t you dare!” He snapped, but from where he had Jon pinned the only response he received was laughter. That did not make him feel less embarrassed. Still, after a minute Edward had to allow himself a small laugh too, rolling off of Jon to lie beside him in bed, putting a hand on his forehead and they both defused the situation with humor.

It was good to be together again. It was good to have someone to laugh with.

Edward felt a pang in his chest when he recalled he’d tried to take that away from both of them. But it was done. It was over and they could move on. Though of course… There was still the matter of revenge to be discussed.

\-----

They were sitting on the floor later that same week, Jonathan playing with Curie idly as Edward sorted his books in a way Jon could never be bothered to do. It was a calm afternoon. The bullies had avoided them since the incident, and Dylan was so embarrassed he hardly left his room anymore. Edward regretted absolutely nothing.

“I was thinking,” Edward began.

“You seem to make a habit of that.” Jonathan promptly interrupted. Edward shot him an absolutely unamused glare.

“I was thinking about ways to take down our enemies. So I can still be there. Our current plan won’t allow for that.” Jon looked cautious as Edward spoke, and it wasn’t hard to see why. The last time they discussed their vengeance they’d both nearly lost everything to Edward’s pride and a temper tantrum. “What if we didn’t target them as a group. What if we got them one by one and left their leader for last.”

“He would know something is coming for him.” Jon caught on, his lips twisting into a cold imitation of a smile. “He’d be out of his mind with terror before we even bothered with him.”

“And they’d be easier to scare without friends to back them up. Not to mention it’s less likely to attract attention.”

“We could make it more personal.” Enthusiasm began to color Jonathan’s voice as he passed Curie to Edward. The little mouse tried to burrow under Ed’s sweater sleeves as Jon took out his notebook and pulled the pencil from behind his ear, scribbling away. “We could target each of their deepest fears specifically. I know one of them is an arachnophobe, one of them has acrophobia, the smaller one has cynophobia-”

“Jesus- Jon, you barely even know their names! How do you know their fears?” Edward laughed in disbelief, admittedly impressed, but Jon just looked at him calmly over his glasses.

“I know their fears because I know fear.” He returned to his writing, but continued: “I may not know their names, but I’ve watched them. I observe. I have a list of fears for everyone in my grade, and some in yours.”

“…Do you have one for me?” Jon’s pen stopped. He didn’t seem very inclined to answer, thinking hard about whether he even would. When he finally spoke, it was quickly and quietly, and Edward barely made out the words.

“Androphobia, autophobia, atychiphobia, athagazoraphobia, and ligyrophobia.” There was a long silence before Edward managed to stop staring and speak. Jonathan wasn’t moving. In fact, Edward wasn’t sure he was even breathing. He was still as stone.

“I… I can’t possibly have that many. What even-”

“A fear of men: Triggered by your father and cemented by the bullies that torment you now. The fear of abandonment: Triggered by a significant lack of love and a deep need to be cared for, which carries into a fear of having that and suddenly having it taken from you. This fueled your recent actions. You cannot be abandoned if you leave first.” Jon cleared his throat before continuing, finally moving to shift awkwardly. “A fear of failure: Triggered by the belief that if you simply did good enough the abuse you endured would cease. The punishments for your perceived ‘failures’ reinforced this fear. The fear of being forgotten: Branched from your fear of failure. You are afraid of being forgotten and being irrelevant, of proving your parents right and your life resulting in nothing. Finally, a fear of loud noises: Likely triggered by crashing, slamming, and the breaking of objects or perhaps the slamming of doors to signal your father returning home. It was a signal you associated with danger, and now you fear that signal and expect pain in the immediate aftermath.”

The silence was heavy between them. It was usually so easy, so calm, but it felt charged in the wake of Jon’s list. Eventually, Edward spoke up quietly despite the lump in his throat. He felt exposed. He felt dissected. He shouldn’t have asked.

“…What about you?” Jon’s head snapped up at that, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Me?”

“What are you afraid of? I mean, I know you’re claustrophobic but that can’t be the only thing.” Jonathan tapped his pencil quickly against the paper as he thought. Was he trying to think of a fear, or simply think of whether or not he wished to share it?

“Phobophobia.” He responded finally.

“What’s that?” Edward leaned forward, his hands moving automatically to accommodate Curie as she climbed around his sweater. Jon seemed distinctly uncomfortable, but Edward’s curiosity was insatiable.

“The fear of fear.”

“…You’re talking about fear right now.” Edward had already known what the word meant. He’d deduced from the use of ‘phobo.’ He wanted a deeper explanation.

“That’s the fears of others.” He waved a hand dismissively, scoffing at the implication that the fears of others could faze him. “That’s fine. But myself?” Jon shook his head, shoulders squared defensively. “Fear is control. I never want anyone to control me again.”

When put like that, Edward certainly couldn’t blame him.

Nothing to fear but fear itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all really seemed sure Marge was gonna hurt him. I... didn't anticipate that reaction, but I realized Jon would have jumped to the same conclusion.


	12. It'll Get Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Ed try to plan, but for two very different events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long and sorry it's so short. idk what im at b'ys

Lunch became a rather sordid affair as their plan began to form. Every day, Jon would come with a page of fresh notes on the boys and observations he’d made. Every day, Edward listening rather than speaking for once, taking in the other boys attention to detail with nothing short of adoration. To most people, Jon’s clinical and heartless approach to his fellow human beings would be unsettling. Edward simply found it brilliant. It made him feel special. Jon cared not a lick for humanity or any of its participants. He didn’t care about anyone but himself, and even that was up in the air most days. But he cared about Edward. He cared about Edward deeply, completely, and it was obvious not only in how he treated Edward, but in how he treated everyone else in comparison.

“Nathanial’s cynophobia is severe. Even the small cotton-ball in the yard near school has him crossing the street to avoid it.” Jon wrote as he spoke. Edward had no idea how he wasn’t giving himself carpel tunnel. He swung his legs under the table, gently brushing against Jon’s with each round. “He’d be our easiest target. The dog wouldn’t even have to be vicious or attack him. We could find something easy to work with and unlikely to attack us, set it on him and watch the terror unfold.”

“What if he runs towards people?” Edward asked, moving his foot up Jon’s calf. He grinned when Jon’s cheeks dusted red, then let his leg drop back down and keep swinging.

“Edward.” Jon warned, voice low.

“Hm?”

“You’re going to get us found out.” Edward’s legs stopped swinging.

“You’re no fun.” He pouted, but crossed his legs regardless to keep them still. Jon just looked at him sadly, a frown deeper than usual tugging at his face.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey- no, I was just-” Ed bit his tongue, figuratively, and bit his lip, literally.

“Edward.” In anyone else, perhaps that would have been a whine. For Jon, it sounded like a growl, and sent a shiver down Edward’s spine. He released his lip to grin, watching Jon’s eyes flit from his mouth to his eyes. That frown deepened.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot.”

“You have perfect recall.” Jon pointed out, but Edward just shrugged. There was a heavy sigh from the taller boy, and then Jon went back to his notes. “We’ll lure him into the woods. It won’t be hard. For all his fear of them, he’s an absolute dog himself. We’ll make him think a young lady is willing to meet with him in the woods, just out of town.” There was silence for a long moment. Long enough to make Jon look up at his companion, who looked absolutely disgusted.

“I can’t believe you just made that pun.”

“It wasn’t a pun, it was irony.”

“You need to stop skipping English.”

“I only skip it when _you_ drag me out of the building!” Jon replied indignantly, but Edward simply shrugged, regarding the room around them in boredom. “Regardless, we can retrieve a cooperative dog from-”

“What are you doing from prom?” Edward cut him off, catching him completely off-guard. Jonathan blinked once, twice, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

“I-” He slowly came back to himself, shaking his head. “I beg your pardon?”

“Prom. What are you doing?” Edward finally looked back at him, and something told Jon he had better consider his answer carefully.

He did not.

“Not bringing you.” He stated simply, shaking his head in impatience this time and looking back down to his notes. Edward tapped a finger against his seat in irritation. It took all of three seconds of glowering before Jonathan finally looked up again with a huff. “I don’t know what you expect from this. Why are you looking for arguments?”

“I’m not!”

“You know I can’t take you, Edward.” He told him sternly, but Ed just looked away, glaring at nothing. “You do know that, yes?”

“Yes, I know that!” The other boy snapped, eyes back on Jon for only a moment before averting once again. “I just wanted to know, if you _could_ then…” He gestured vaguely, and Jon raised an eyebrow as he considered the question. His brow immediately furrowed with concern once he realized the implication.

“You doubt that I would bring you if I could?”

Edward simply shrugged.

“Then tell me, who else would I bring?”

“I don’t know. Some… pretty girl. Or a cute boy.”

“Yes, I would bring a cute boy.” There was a split second of heartbreak in Edward’s eyes before Jon continued. “You are a very, very cute boy.” He whispered, frightened of someone potentially hearing them. “Edward, what’s going on?”

“…I don’t know. Just not feeling great about myself right now.”

“In regards to me or in general?” Edward merely shrugged.

“One leads into the other.” Edward looked down at his own swinging legs. “… What’s going to happen between us when you graduate?”

“We don’t need to worry about that right now.” Jon insisted immediately, but Edward only scowled at his jeans.

“I worry about it anyway.”

“Edward.” Jon began sternly. “One thing at a time. We need to execute this properly. Now, you’re familiar with The Hound of Baskerville-”

“Jon, that’s fiction.”

“ _Yes,_ Edward," Jon sighed with no small amount of exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am aware that Sherlock Holmes is not a historical record. But it provides inspiration. We lack access to phosphorous, but I was thinking we could attach red lights to the dogs collar.”

“To look like eyes.” Edward caught on, leaning forward to try to read Jon’s notes upside-down. It wasn’t the direction that was the problem. It was the scribbles he called handwriting.

“Precisely. A darker coat would be preferable. Something hard to see in the dark. Now, there’s a big black dog always outside a house near the woods. I don’t know how friendly it is-”

“Oh, I know that one! She’s sweet!” Edward exclaimed, smiling again. Jon simply regarded him with brows drawn together, as if he could not fathom Edward doing things without him.

“You do?”

“Yeah! I bring her water sometimes. It’s too warm for all that fur.” He sighed softly, sadly, pulling at the sleeves of his own shirt in sympathy. “She’s a Newfie, y’know? Like in Peter Pan? They’re known for being friendly, and she already likes me.”

“So if we can sneak some sort of lure onto his person…” Jon considered, tapping his pen on the table.

“We could tie that into the trick. You said we’d convince him a girl wants to meet him.”

“Well, yes, but it’s too risky to include a third party-”

“No, no. Jon. Think.” Edward told him, as if Jon were not always thinking. “It’ll be dark. I have vaguely feminine features. I could-”

“No.” He interrupted immediately.

“But-”

“Absolutely not.” Jon’s tone shook with a sudden, barely contained rage, and Edward’s arguments died on his lips. He shrank a little under the intensity of Jonathan’s gaze, unable to meet his eye.

“I just think-” He tried again, weakly, because he just couldn’t drop an idea once he clutched onto it.

“Edward.” Oh, he hated it when Jon said his name like that. He never wanted to hear Jon say his name with such disapproval. Not even just disapproval, but- _God,_ Edward just couldn’t stand the thought of Jon being angry with him. “Under absolutely no circumstances am I sending you into the forest in the middle of the night with a larger boy who thinks he’s been invited to have his way with you.”

“But you wouldn’t be sending me-”

“This isn’t up for discussion, Edward!” Jon snapped, closing his notebook sharply. “It isn’t an option! Drop it!”

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Jonathan stood with a huff, tucking his notebook under his arm as he exited the cafeteria with the masses. He’d usually wait for Ed. He knew his companion didn’t like to navigate crowds alone. But it wasn’t an issue, because Ed did not stand. He simply sat there until it was only him and the lunch ladies cleaning up, staring at nothing.

When he eventually did leave, he went straight home.


	13. Until Then It's Just Gonna Get Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rough hands braced against the back of his small shoulders, and the whole world turned upside-down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Graphic depictions of child abuse, homophobic slurs, a nightmare version of Jon being abusive to Edward

His feet were bare as he padded quietly down the hallway, feeling the worn wooden floor beneath him as he crept in the night. He reached the top of the stairs, looking down the steep decline with anxiety twisting in his stomach. The stairs were always so creaky. It was the most treacherous part of his clandestine endeavors, but he had to eat at some point, and he’d been denied that privilege earlier. It occurred to him that access to basic necessities should not be considered a privilege, but that sort of thought had no place in his fathers household. It was a privilege if his father said it was.  
He took a deep breath, swallowed his nerves, and lowered himself onto the first step.

Rough hands braced against the back of his small shoulders, and the whole world turned upside-down.

The edges of the stairs seemed somehow sharper than usual, and he seemed to hit the wall at the bottom harder than he usually did. He laid there dazed and aching and there was no need to wonder what had happened. It was a regular event. Stairs were just another weapon, like the belts, or the bottles, or the fists. He closed his eyes against the pain and tried his best not to cry. He’d get in more trouble for that. Men didn’t cry, his father would tell him. Are you a man, Eddie? He’d demand. Or are you going to cry like a little faggot. Like a little girl. There was never a good answer. There was never a safe answer.

Edward opened his eyes and looked up to see his mother. She looked over at him, then up at the man descending slowly with heavy steps towards his injured son. She shook her head, but Edward knew it wasn’t directed at his father. It was directed at him. For ‘provoking’ him. For ‘causing trouble.’ For ‘making things harder than they had to be.’ It wasn’t his fault, he wanted to scream at her every time. He hadn’t done anything. He’d been good. Make him stop. But he’d tried those pleas and those claims before. They resulted only in a smack and a scolding on respect, on how he had to mind his parents. But no matter how much he minded them, how completely he obeyed, how good he tried to be, it would never be enough. If he pressed the issue too stubbornly or if he was too loud for her tastes, she’d drag him into his closet and lock him inside. He hated the closet. So he stopped going to her.

The heavy feet of his father stepped into view, and Edward’s blood froze.

“You trying to steal from me, boy?” His father demanded. He tried to curl up tighter, tried to disappear. Maybe if he got small enough, the hits wouldn’t land. Maybe if he got small enough he could stop being there at all.

“No.” He whimpered to the ratty floorboards.

“Then just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” A large hand gripped his hair and pulled him upright. He cried out in pain, and his arms seemed too heavy to lift.

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

It was the strangest thing. He was looking right at his father but could not see him at all. He was right there. Why was he not there?

“I’m not lying!”

“You’re always lying! You’re a liar and a cheater and waste of fucking life!” He was dropped, just so his father would be free to backhand him across the face. He stumbled back into the wall, braced himself against the cold, chipped plaster. “Tell me what the fuck you were doing!”

“I was hungry! I- I haven’t eaten all day, I just wanted-” He was cut off sharply by another blow. Strange that he couldn’t process where or what it was. Just that it hurt.

“Mouths that talk back to their fathers don’t get to eat!”

“Please-” He begged, sliding down the wall and sobbing, cheeks wet with tears. “Please, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry- please-” He curled up and hid his face in his arms, heaving sobs that shook his small and aching frame. Strangely, his father did not try to kick him or drag him upright. He no longer yelled. But he was taller, standing above Edward as a looming shadow. How could he know that? He wasn’t looking. He was hiding his face, how did he know what physical changes were around himself?

The new tormentor knelt down before him. Gentle, cold hands eased his arms out of the way and held his face, making him look into bright, intelligent eyes. Rough thumbs delicately wiped his tears away, before one of the hands ran through his hair just as he liked. He relaxed, despite how he was still shaking.

“Oh Edward,” Jonathan sighed, sounding sad but fond. The cool hand was nice against the heated bruise left on his face. “Look what you made me do.”

Edward’s world turned to ice.

“What?” He barely choked, eyes wide in horror as Jon shook his head.

“You know I hate for us to be this way. Why must you make it so? I don’t enjoy hurting you.” He claimed, though the amusement in his eyes said something entirely different. “But you continuously force my hand.”

“I- I didn’t-”

“Just say your sorry.” Jon told him, that same softness to his voice. Edward couldn’t look away from the eyes he used to love. “Apologize, and maybe we can forget this ever happened. Perhaps I’ll let it go.”  
“I… I’m sorry.” He replied automatically, almost mechanically, a strange hollowness settling in his chest. “I’m sorry, Jon. Please. I’m sorry…”

“There, see? And all is forgiven.” There was a pause as Edward continued to sniffle and sob. Jonathan’s careful smile dropped into a hard frown. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Thank you.” Came the panicked reply, as Edward remembered to do something he hadn’t realized he always did. Always. Every time this happened. Every time Jon did this. Did Jon do it often? He couldn’t remember. “Thank you…” He squeezed his eyes shut. He felt sick. He always felt so sick. The cold hand was no longer comforting. It tightened its grip on his jaw as the hand in his hair fisted and tugged back, forcing him to meet Jon’s eyes again. There was such anger, such fury. Edward could do nothing against it.

“How many times must I tell you to look at me when I talk to you?” Jonathan hissed, unmoved when Edward whimpered. “Such a pretty little idiot. Absolutely useless. I give you one simple rule, only one thing I ask of you, and you can’t even manage that. Despite everything I do for you. Pathetic.”

“I’m sorry- Jon, please, please- I’m sorry-” Edward wanted to close his eyes. He didn’t want to look. But he knew better now. “Please… Please, Jon, please stop, please stop- I’m sorry- I’m sorry…”  
“Edward…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Edward.”

“Jon…”

“Edward!”

 

Edward woke up with a sharp gasp and a full-body jerk, sitting upright in the bed and gripping the sheets around him. He was shaking hard, covered in cold sweat. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his shirt was sticking to his back, and his cheeks were soaked with tears. His eyes were sore from crying. A nightmare. He’d thought he’d been rid of those.

“You were distressed.” Came a voice at his bedside. He couldn’t bear to look at its owner. “Are you okay?”

Edward had no answer to that.

“…You were saying my name. Was… was it about me?”

Finally, he turned his head in the dark to look at his boyfriend. The teenager was wringing his hands, obviously worried, glasses thrown on in a hurry and hair tousled from sleep. As always, his bright eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. Edward shuddered at the sight of them.

“…I’m sorry.” Edward finally spoke, quiet and hoarse. It left Jon confused, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as he tried to make sense of the sudden apology.

“I- you’re sorry? You haven’t done anything wrong.” He assured, but Edward bowed his head all the same, his shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry-” He apologized again, hands coming up to wipe at his face even as more tears fell. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Edward-”

Not even Ed knew what he was sorry for. He just… felt so horrible, felt he had done something wrong. There was always something he had done wrong. If he apologized, maybe he wouldn’t be in as much trouble.

“Can… can I touch you?” Jonathan tried, uncertain. He’d never seen Edward quite so shaken up by a dream. There was a long moment as the other boy thought that over.

“… Are you going to hurt me?” He choked out.

“Never,” Jon swore, not a hint of hesitance in his reply. “I would never hurt you.”

“Even though you’re mad at me?”

“What?” That just dragged Jon deeper into the fog. What in Gods name had Edward worked up so badly? “I’m not mad at you. Edward, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve done nothing to warrant anger. You had a bad dream, but that’s all it was. I would never hurt you in reality.” Ed was shaking his head before Jonathan had even finished speaking.

“No, you- you were mad- at school, you were mad at me…” He reached out all the same, hands grabbing at the fabric of Jon’s night-shirt and tugging him over. The taller boy settled himself against the headboard as usual, pulling his distressed friend against his chest and carding fingers gently through his hair. Edward shuddered as the memory of his dream flitted by at the sensation.

“When was I mad at school?” Jon prompted softly, as if he didn’t already know.

“During lunch. You- I suggested the- the idea I had and- and you got angry- and then you left without me-” Edward managed between trembling breaths and violent sobs.

“Edward…” Jon sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. “I wasn’t mad at you. I was… upset at the image the idea conjured. I… I should have kept a better cap on it. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”

Now, that brought him up short.

“…You’re sorry?” Edward looked up at him as best he could, and Jon kissed his forehead as the short boy looked up at him.

“Yes. I have said it before: I know how displays of aggression affect you. I… am not used to experiencing such strong emotions. I’m never quite sure what to do with them. The softer things, like the care I feel for you, I can simply show you in private. But the harder things? Anger, jealousy, doubt? I don’t know what to do with those. I try to keep them from you as best I can, but… sometimes it slips through. Such as at lunch, or after Margaret’s questioning. I will work to better control these feelings. But in the meantime, I scared you. I want you to feel safe with me, but my actions caused you to doubt that safety. I apologize.”

He sounded serious. Like he really meant it. Surely he couldn’t?

Edward closed his eyes tightly against the tears that gathered once more.

Jon did not handle him roughly or force Edward to look at him. He simply led the other boys head back down to lie against his chest, and continued to soothe him through the night. Edward did not fall asleep again, but that was fine. He needed to be awake. He needed to feel how much Jonathan cared. He needed to be certain Jon would not hurt him. 

The image of the Jonathan from his dream haunted him, but it did not at all match up with the one holding him so carefully.


	14. All The Kings Will Come Down From Their Thrones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious warning in this chapter for attempted rape. Attempted, not successful, but still. If that's not something you're comfortable reading, the important plot-points are summarized in the end-notes for you ♥ please be safe.
> 
> Also warning for homophobic slurs and murder.

The dogs collar said her name was Skipper, but Edward wasn’t sure why that would be her name. She didn’t skip. She didn’t even trot like some dogs did. She just lumbered up to them with heavy steps. She was huge, but all she did as she approached was bump her head against Ed’s hand until he rewarded her with the silently requested ear-scritches.

“Jonathan, darling, would you lend me your shirt?” He requested, fluttering his eyelashes at the target of his manipulations. Jonathan was unmoved, leaning against a nearby tree. A crow landed on the ground beside him. Either he didn’t notice, or he was consciously choosing to ignore it.

“My shirt.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m using it.” Edward fixed him with an entirely unimpressed glare.

“You have two. It’s excessive, especially in this heat.”

“My arms are horrendous, Edward, I can’t just go out in public with them uncovered.” Jon shifted uncomfortably. Edward could not tell if that was due to the subject, or due to the crow hopping nearer. Still, the boy frowned as he pet the nice dog.

“First of all, there is nothing wrong with your arms-”

“Objectively untrue.”

“And secondly, we’re not in public. It’s just you, me, and Skipper.” Her name sounded so strange when he said it out loud. His tone was far too formal for it. “I’ve seen your arms. I’ve been in your arms. I like them.” He offered Jon a smile, reassuring, sympathetic. There were reasons they both slept with their shirts on even in the sweltering Southern heat. Jonathan considered for a moment, before sighing and pushing off the fence, shrugging off the unbuttoned plaid and tossing it to his boyfriend without glancing at him. He leaned back against the tree so heavily it almost looked like it hurt.

Edward took a moment to admire the way Jon looked, arms crossed and posture relatively relaxed, standing in the sun in a loose-fitting t-shirt. Edward wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something so baggy and ill-fitting. It worked on Jon, though, hung off of him in a way Edward was quite a fan of. Still, he tore his eyes away and spread the plaid shirt out on the ground before sitting atop it.

“That’s what you wanted it for?” Jon snapped at him in irritation, but Edward paid him no mind. The dog towered over him, a hulking mass of black fur with a wagging tail. She flopped down beside him, and he continued to run his fingers through the long, black fur. Poor thing. She had no business in such awful heat. She seemed much happier in the relative cool cover of the forest, though, especially with the little tub of water they brought her.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit on the ground.” He stated as if it were obvious.

“Yes, you could have. All our clothes are second-hand anyway.” He could practically hear Jon rolling his eyes. Edward glanced over and froze. The crow was right next to Jon, looking up at him inquisitively.

“It’s called having standards, Jonathan.”

“So I don’t have standards?”

“Clearly not. Just look at your boyfriend.” Edward scoffed, turning his eyes to the dog to avoid seeing the reaction to his self-deprecating joke. He didn’t hear any movement, but suddenly the dog was perking up and Jon was dropping down to sit on the bare ground in front of him. He met Edward’s wide eyes very seriously, frowning at him in disapproval.

“Don’t you insult my fucking boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend is a neurotic little shit.”

“Stop that.”

“Make me.”

Edward smiled smugly, feeling rather victorious as Jon leaned forward and captured his lips, fingers tracing his jawline. They parted but stayed close, and Ed watched as Jonathan closed his eyes and sighed, looking strangely troubled as he rested his forehead against the other boys.

“…I really don’t want you to do this.”

“I know.”  
“I don’t want to put you in that position.”

“I know.” Edward repeated softly, running a hand through the ridiculous nest that was Jon’s hair. Jon clenched his teeth for a moment before speaking again.

“I don’t want him to touch you.” His brow furrowed slightly more, and the deep breath he took to hold his temper heaved his shoulders visibly. “I don’t want him anywhere near you. I don’t want his hands on you-”

“The only hands I want on me are yours, Jon.” Ed assured, causing the distressed boy to open his eyes. Their gazes met, and Edward hoped his own sincerity was showing. “This is just to trick him. Just to get the lure on his person. I’ll slip it in his back pocket, you let the dog loose, she’ll chase him away-”

“You sure about that?” Jon glanced down at their companion, who was snoring softly beside them. Ed shrugged.

“Just seeing her should be enough to fuck him up, right?”

“Yes, but… Edward.” Jon swallowed thickly, nervously, backing off as he spoke. “I need you to understand this: If something goes wrong and he is not deterred, I will kill him before he can-” A dark scowl crossed his features before he simply repeated: “I’ll kill him.”

“Hot.” Ed waggled his eyebrows, grinning widely.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He shrugged, and Jon just raised his eyebrows.

“…So which is more fucked up. Me being completely willing to kill a man, or you being attracted to that?”

“I think they’re both so fucked up, it doesn’t really matter which is more so.”

——

“How do I look?” Edward didn’t particularly like changing clothes in the woods, but they didn’t have a choice. If anyone caught him cross-dressing, they’d likely burn him at the stake.

“Sufficiently feminine.” Jon replied rather gruffly, only looking him over briefly as he crouched near the dog. The closer they got to the meeting time, the more closed off Jonathan became. It made Edward nervous. He approached Jon as the taller boy stood, setting hands on his hips and pulling him in for a long kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” he assured. “But you have to keep your head, dear. We can’t jump the gun. Try to wait until I’ve planted the lure.”

“I’ll… try.” He glanced down at the dog, his grip on Edward tightening with anxiety. “You’re… sure she’ll play along? She seems awful lazy.”

“She’s a dog. What dog can resist free treats?” Even now, she was nosing at his pocket. “Now, get into position. The sun is setting and he’ll be here at dusk.”

“Yell ‘stop’ the moment the lures planted.” Jon told him for the millionth time as he took the dogs leash and began to lead it away to hide. “I mean it, Edward. The moment it’s there.”

“Yes, darling, I know.” As if he’d wait even a moment to get that Neanderthal off of him.

——

Darkness had fallen in the woods when Edward finally heard movement. It was perfect. It would be impossible to tell who he was with the shadows falling over him. However, it was not at all impossible to tell that more than one person had entered the small clearing.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding!” One of the boys exclaimed as Edward’s stomach dropped.

“She actually agreed to roll around with you out here in the woods?” This wasn’t the plan.

“Yeah! Jesus, what a whore! So I figured she wouldn’t mind me bringing a few others, right? If she wants it that bad?” Only one of these boys was afraid of the dog. It would be no use to them now, and for all his claims of attempted homicide, Jon probably couldn’t even fight one of the larger boys on his own, let alone all five. They surrounded Edward as he tried to think his way through this, but his brain wasn’t responding. He was too panicked. Then one of the boys grabbed him and he jerked back instinctively, right into one of the other boys. Large hands gripped his arms too tightly. He couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t touch me!” He screamed at them, hating how high-pitched the panic caused his voice to be.

“Oh come on, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“This wasn’t the deal!” He insisted as they grabbed at his clothes.

“Holy shit, it’s a guy!” One of them cried as he tried to grope a chest that wasn’t there.

“Oh shit-”

“Well, if he wants to be treated like a girl, then we should damn well treat him like a girl!”

“C’mon man, I ain’t no faggot!”

“You ain’t gotta be a faggot to wanna put your dick in a mouth.” A hand shoved down hard on his shoulder, to more hands pushing him from behind. He fell to his knees, the impact shooting through his bad leg. He doubled over, crying out, until one of them grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. He looked up at the shadows looming over him and wondered:

Where the hell was Jon?

His first attempt to cry for help was strangled by a sob, but the second rang loud and clear, startling the boy directly before him who was fumbling with the button of his pants.

“Stop!” He called, chest tight and voice shaking. He didn’t know what Jon could do, if he could do anything, but… Edward was scared. He was frightened, and he didn’t know what else to do.

There was no warning. No call for them to step away from Edward or warnings to back off. Barely a moment after Edward called their codeword, shots were fired. He hadn’t known Jonathan had brought a gun. He didn’t even know where Jon had gotten one, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. The boy directly in front of Edward cried out and dropped, landing on the kneeling boy who shoved him off sharply. That shot was immediately followed by another, and another, and another. Jon aimed for center mass, and the boys were both surprised and in more pain than they’d ever expected to feel in their short lives. Even the ones that were shot non-fatally fell, stunned, and once they were down they did not live much longer as Jonathan finished the job. He came to the last boy, the one who had fallen on Edward. It was hard to see features in the dim moonlight, but Edward had recognized his voice and the outline of his features. It was the one that had broken his leg. Jon was approaching them quickly, gun at his side and a darkness in his eyes that made Edward shiver. His rage was not fire, but it was ice so cold that it burned any it came into contact with.

“Wait!” Edward rose quickly, stumbling slightly as his leg gave out. He raised a hand to Jon’s chest, tried to hold him in place. Those freezing eyes turned to him and he shivered from the chill.

“Edward.” He began, and it was obvious in his tone that it took him great effort to speak calmly. “I told you that I would do this. You cannot stop me now. He is a witness, and he was going to-”

“I know.” Ed stopped him, not at all wanting to hear it spoken outloud. “I know, Jon, I’m not stopping you.” He lowered his hand slowly and took a deep breath, trying his very best to stop shaking. “I want to do it.”

There was no surprise in Jon’s expression. There was no room for anything but the anger. Still, his posture relaxed slightly, and he pressed the gun into Edward’s hands while the other came up to the nape of his neck, holding him in place as Jonathan leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Then Jonathan was gone, sliding behind him and wrapping arms around him, putting his hands over Edward’s own and showing him how to hold the weapon. It was heavier than it looked. Edward was shaking too hard to hold it steady on his own, but Jon was firm and sure and held his tremors at bay. The boy on the ground was crying, squirming and clawing at the ground. It was almost enough to shake Edward’s resolve.

“You sure about this?” Jon whispered in his ear. “There’s no going back from it.”

“I don’t want to go back. I want to stay with you.” He felt Jon’s grip tighten slightly.

“Don’t do this because you think I want you to.”

“I’m not. I’m doing it because I want me to.”

That seemed to placate the taller boy.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Jon told him. “Pull the trigger as you exhale. Mind the recoil.” Edward nodded and did as he was told. His finger squeezed the trigger, the shot rang out, and the boy stopped making his pathetic noises. There was nothing but their breathing for a moment. Jon backed off, taking the gun with him, and Edward felt he could collapse without the support. His legs felt like jelly.

“What happened to the dog?” He asked, voice low and hoarse.

“She ran off at the first shot. I reckon she headed straight home.”

“We should do the same. Someone will have heard all that. We can’t stay here.”

“Are you okay?”

“…I’m blocking this all out until we’re safe. Come on.” Edward grabbed his hand, tugging him along. Between the police and the impending breakdown, there was no time to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the plan went south. The boy brought his friends so Jon stepped out and shot them all dead. Edward asked to kill the last boy himself, and then they went home.
> 
> I know some of you were excited about the spooky murder house. Don't be disappointed yet. Their own plan for it was ruined by what happened to Edward's leg, but I still have a plan for it.


	15. The Sirens Will Come to Repair My Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward had not pressed the matter. He had given up rather quickly, too exhausted to fight. He could admit in hindsight that it had been a terrible idea and he would have been even more distraught after the fact. He had even thanked Jon the next day! Yet… Jon was still upset with him, and what else could it possibly be about? It was late at night when Edward awoke from yet another nightmare, the subject of which was not at all hard to guess. He had apparently traded out nightmares about his father for nightmares about the night in the woods. He knew for a fact that Jon had been sleeping poorly since that night- well, more poorly, which frankly was almost impressive. He knew Jon was still up the moment he looked to the other side of the room. But Jon’s bed was off-limits now.  
> But… surely it couldn’t hurt to ask?

Edward was fairly certain Jon was upset with him. About a week had passed since the incident in the woods, and Jonathan just seemed to retreat further from Edward with every passing day. He seemed to no longer have any desire for closeness. Before, he had always seemed to seek out contact when they were alone. Now he would barely cross from his own side of the room, and no matter what nightmares either of them had, Jon seemed to have no inclination to share a bed anymore. Usually, Edward would wonder what he had done wrong, but there was no need to do that in this case. He knew exactly what his mistake had been.

\--

The night of the incident, they had returned home through the window, barely able to lift themselves through with their trembling arms. They had collapsed on Edward’s bed, and immediately were turning to hold each other. Ed was still shaking violently, the reality of the situation hitting him at last, and he could feel tremors wracking Jon’s body as he held him. Edward’s skin was crawling. He could still feel their eyes on him, their hands grabbing and pushing. His knee still ached, and he sobbed as he remembered just how close of a call it had been. Jon's arms tightened around him, clutching him close and holding him safe.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about them. He didn’t want to think about them touching him or leering at him or doing what they were about to do. His brain zeroed in on one thought with a desperate tunnel vision: He needed a distraction. What could distract him from the memory of touch, he asked himself. What could possibly chase away these images? More touch, his brain told him. He reasoned, with his muddled and distressed mind, that he could somehow replace the traumatic memory with a good one. Any other time he would know that wouldn’t work. As it was, he just did not have the ability to control this impulsive survival tactic.

Jon had been surprised at the sudden kiss, immediately unsure of what to do with his hands. Edward kissed him frantically, but the desperation this time was not borne of a need for contact and affection. It was due to irrational panic. Perhaps Jon could feel that something was off. Perhaps he knew Edward better than Ed did himself. Perhaps he simply retained a power of reasoning that Edward had lost in the woods. Whatever the reason, he put his hands on Edward’s shoulders and firmly pushed him away, holding him at arms length.

“Edward, what are you doing?” Upon being called out on his behavior, he simply did not know what to say. If he did speak, he felt perhaps he would start crying. “Edward?” One of Jon’s hands brushed his cheek and came away wet. He’d forgotten that he’d been crying.

“I…” He managed, his throat feeling closed off and sore. “I don’t… want to think about them.” The look on Jon’s face did not betray any further understanding. “I don’t want to keep- I don’t want to- remember. Them. I want to remember you.” His voice was shaky, weak even to his own ears, and trailed off near the end. Did that even make sense? No. No, he didn't think it did.

“Edward.” Jon began carefully, as if Edward would break apart at the slightest misstep. Perhaps he would. It certainly seemed that way. “You are… extremely upset and not in your right mind. You just went through an extremely traumatic experience-”

“You don’t need to explain that to me.” Edward snapped, feeling belittled and quite stupid despite Jon’s neutral tone.

“Of course,” always so infuriatingly patient. “This is not the time. It would only upset you further-”

“No, it wouldn’t.” He insisted stubbornly.

“Yes it would, and it would upset me as well. Do you really want them to have this? To be the reason we rushed a milestone in our relationship?” Edward hated how good Jon was at disarming him. “This isn’t the way to cope. I’ll do anything I can to help, but that would only hurt you. Besides, I... really don't want to right now.”

His words made sense, but at that point Edward was crying too hard to respond.

\--

Edward had not pressed the matter. He had given up rather quickly, too exhausted to fight. He could admit in hindsight that it had been a terrible idea and he would have been even more distraught after the fact. He had even thanked Jon the next day! Yet… Jon was still upset with him, and what else could it possibly be about? It was late at night when Edward awoke from yet another nightmare, the subject of which was not at all hard to guess. He had apparently traded out nightmares about his father for nightmares about the night in the woods. He knew for a fact that Jon had been sleeping poorly since that night- well, more poorly, which frankly was almost impressive. He knew Jon was still up the moment he looked to the other side of the room. But Jon’s bed was off-limits now.

But… surely it couldn’t hurt to ask?

“…Jon?” He tried, no real hope in his voice.

“Go back to sleep, Edward,” came the immediate answer. Ed wilted. He almost retreated beneath the covers to do as he was told. But this couldn’t keep happening. If Jon was upset then they needed to talk about it, right?

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I mean- I’m sorry for the other night.” He elaborated to the ceiling. He heard movement from Jon’s side, the squeaking of the mattress as Jon turned to face him.

“The other night?”

“I… You were right. I wasn’t in my right mind, and I’m sorry for putting you in that position. It wasn’t fair to you-”

“Edward, you were noticeably panicked and barely coherent. I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“…Then what did I do?” It didn’t make sense! If that wasn’t it, then why on earth was Jonathan- Unless…

Ah. Well, that made sense. Jonathan was clearly done with him.

“What did you do?” He sounded so confused… if he was playing dumb, he was doing it well. “Nothing. You haven’t done anything.”

“But you- I clearly- It’s obvious that I’ve done something wrong. Or you’re just bored with me? If that’s the case then at least have the balls to say as much-” The figure in Jon’s bed sat up suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” He sounded so genuinely appalled. Edward sat as well, exhausted and exasperated. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, catching on the tangles. It had been two days since his last shower. He was hesitant to take his clothes off these days.

“You don’t touch me anymore!” Edward exclaimed, not quite loud enough to wake anyone. “You hardly even look at me. I try to talk to you but you just- just brush me off and act like I’m an annoyance! You don’t seem to want me around at all- like I’m just some- some pest that can’t take a hint!”

“That’s not- It’s not like that.” He sounded oddly defensive for someone claiming to be innocent of the accusations laid before him. So either he was lying, or he had something else to hide. Edward’s brain always ran through a million possibilities for every situation, over-analyzing it and then landing on the worst possible outcome as the most likely, usually starring himself as the one at fault for whatever awful thing was happening. As it was, none of the reasons he was seeing as most likely seemed to fit. So what else was there?

“Then what is it? Are you just… upset about what happened? I understand if you’re distressed, but you could at least have the decency to let me know instead of pushing me away like this and leaving me to think I wasn’t good enough for you!” His throat was tightening and his eyes were stinging. He wished he didn’t cry so easily. He wished he could be cold like Jon. “I- I could even help! I don’t know how, but I’d try!”

“…I know you would.” Came the surprisingly soft reply. It was the most familiar tone he’d heard from Jon in days. He sounded fond, but tired, and it worried Edward just as it gave him hope. Ed thought perhaps Jon would follow it with an explanation, but they both just sat in the darkness quietly, the tension between them weighing so heavily on Edward’s chest he could hardly breathe.

“Do you remember how it felt when I shut you out?” Edward asked suddenly, hands fisted in the sheets to keep from pulling at his hair. Jon didn’t answer, and so Edward did so for him. “You were hurt. You were- you seemed devastated. You cried, Jon, and that isn’t something you do lightly.”

“I remember.” Almost inaudible, but it was a response at least.

“You made me promise not to do it again, and I agreed. You said it wasn’t fair and you were right, it wasn’t. But now you’re doing that to me, despite knowing how much it hurts. When I told you I would do better, I thought that was both of us. I thought we were both deciding to- to really try, to talk through things, to… not lose each other. I thought-” His voice broke, and he couldn’t help it when his hands released the sheets to pulled hard at his hair. The sting grounded him, and he took a breath along with it to steady himself.

“I…” Jon started as Edward tried his best not to break down. “Edward, I didn’t- I wasn’t…” There was a long pause as Jonathan considered what to say next. He was never one to waste words, if it could be helped. “…This is for the best. It would be better for you if-”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Edward snapped, finally standing from his bed and moving across the room to look Jon in the eye as he spoke, jabbing a finger against the taller boys shoulder in emphasis. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me without my input! It’s my life! I should have a say in it!”

“Your judgment is clouded-”

“Oh, cut the crap, Jonathan.” Edward had had about enough of this. He put his hands on his hips, glaring down at his boyfriend who at least had the grace to look abashed. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me without consulting me at all. Tell me what’s going on-”

“I killed someone.” The barest hint of a whisper, but it shut Edward up quite effectively. He stared at Jon with wide eyes for a moment, before huffing in impatience and crossing his arms.

“Yes, I am aware. Multiple someones, in fact.”

“You shouldn’t be okay with that.”

“Jonathan, they were going to-” He still couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t even think the word. Somehow, that _godawful word_ just made it all worse. “You saved me.”

“I put you in that position-”

“I put _myself_ in that position! If you recall, you were against it from the beginning. I conceived of the idea and I insisted on it despite your words of caution. You even told me beforehand that you would kill them if something went wrong.” Jon’s shoulders sagged, his hands twisting together anxiously. He couldn’t look up at the boy scolding him. With a heavy sigh, Edward sat on the side of the bed and put a careful hand on Jon’s shoulder, terrified the other boy would reject him yet again. Jon didn’t move. “Jon, you can’t just blame yourself for what happened. We both had a hand in it.” The shoulder beneath Edward’s hand began to shake, Jon’s hands tightening around each other so hard that Ed was sure it must have hurt.

“But I- I gave you the gun.” The taller boy told the darkness between them, a quiet hiss of words he did not want to speak aloud. “I got behind you. I showed you how to hold it. I put my hands over yours and-”

“And _I_ pulled the trigger, Jon. _I_ made that choice.” Perhaps the choice he made should have bothered him. It didn’t.

“Because of me-”

“Because it’s what I wanted to do and what that scumbag deserved, Jonathan.”

“I’m a bad influence.”

“Where is all of this coming from?” Edward tried gently, seeing that trying to convince Jon was going nowhere. “You seemed fine with it all before.”

“That was before- before I saw the look in your eyes when you killed him.”

“What do you mean?” A sense of dread twisted in his stomach. He’d never wanted an answer less, even as he burned to know.

“The light was gone.” Ah. Not cryptic at all.

“The… light.”

“They were dull. No light. I- I couldn’t stop- can’t stop thinking about it. It was gone. Like- like I’d snuffed it out. Like I’d taken something away that you would never get back. Like I’d tainted you somehow-”

“You didn’t.” Ed assured him, hand tightening just slightly on Jon’s shoulder. “Jon, that… Any look I had in that moment. That wasn’t you. That was them. What they tried to do.” Finally, finally, Jon looked at him. It almost seemed like he wanted to cry, but no tears fell. Edward couldn’t help but reach out, run his fingers through Jon’s hair and push it out of his face. It was getting just a bit too long to manage. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleaded. “We need each other. Now more than ever.”

His hand settled along Jon’s jawline, thumb resting on his cheek. Jonathan lifted his own to lay it over Edward’s, holding it there as if Ed had any thoughts of pulling away. The taller boy was trembling. It broke Edward’s heart to see him that way.

“I’m sorry.” He managed, voice ruined. Edward just shushed him and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Jon’s eyes slid shut as if he were savoring the feeling. It occurred to Edward that it must have hurt Jon to stay away, but he kept it up because he thought it would be best for Edward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” He took a shaky breath before opening his eyes, meeting Edward’s in the dark. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I just… just wanted to keep you from… turning out like me.”

“I know. It’s okay, Jon.”

“It’s not.” He insisted, clutching Edward’s hand tighter. He averted his eyes for a moment before simply closing them again. There was a long silence before he spoke again. “Will you- would you stay with me? Tonight?” He sounded so small, so afraid. How could he ever think Ed would turn him down?

“Gladly.”

It was so easy, slipping into bed beside Jon and gathering the trembling teenager into his arms. He always held Jon after nightmares, just as Jon always held him after panic attacks, and so it was all very familiar. Easy. He threaded his fingers through the wild nest of hair as Jon settled against his chest, pressed a kiss to his head just to reassure him.

“Edward?” He still sounded so terrified. But what was he scared of? Edward had already accepted him. Ed made a small sound of acknowledgment, exhaustion weighing on him heavily now that there was a pillow beneath his head and the weight of his boyfriend in his arms. Jon was wrapped around him completely, clinging with long arms and longer legs, face nestled against the crook of Edward’s neck. They belonged like that, Edward thought. They belonged together, holding onto each other, comforting and caring for each other in a way no one else could.

Jon did not continue his thought for a moment. For so long, in fact, that Edward thought perhaps he had fallen asleep. He’d certainly seemed exhausted enough. Ed had almost drifted off himself when a trembling whisper permeated the still night.

“I love you.”

Half asleep, he had no capacity to over-think. His brain was clouded with a blissful fog, wherein he could easily accept that he loved Jon and Jon loved him and there was nothing to worry about regarding that fact.

“I love you too.” He mumbled with an ease that came with this lessened awareness. Jon relaxed against him finally, and it wasn’t long at all before they both finally, finally got some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon? Having a crisis? More likely than you'd think! Sorry this took so long!


End file.
